Beyond All Limits
by Fanatic482
Summary: *chp 18 (FINAL CHP) added!* POST ATY - The Truth as foretold by the Prophecy has only begun...
1. Water World

Story: Beyond All Limits

Author: Steph (stephanie406@juno.com)

Disclaimer: Don't own Alias, or any characters thus portrayed. It all belongs to JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, ABC, etc.

Rating: PG-13 (for now)

Spoilers/Summary : post "After Thirty Years"; Vaughn's alive, and Sydney's been captured

Surprisingly, he didn't feel cold. The water wasn't warm, per say, but it was at least comfortable. Comfortable enough to die in.

This wasn't at all like he'd imagined he'd die. He'd thought about car accidents resulting from a high-speed chase. Or a bomb going off. Being shot, or even stabbed. Never had he really ever entertained the idea of death by drowning.

A direct result of his love for her, if anything. He'd always put her safety ahead of everything else, although more often than not it got him into some sort of trouble. Just like now. He'd risked everything he had for her.

His job. His security. A pristine agent's file with no little tell tale notes marking "inappropriate" behavior that they'd deemed were "against agent/handler protocol". And mostly, well he'd risked his life.

Every single time they laid eyes on each other was a threat to his life. But Sydney was worth that to him. Whether he'd ever admit it or not, he knew he loved her. And for that, all the risks in the world were worth it to him.

But maybe this time the plan had backfired on him.

"Ya think?" the voice in his head asked him sarcastically.

On the other side of the door, he watched as Sydney put all her weight behind that fire extinguisher, trying with all her might to free him from what was soon to become his watery grave.

He wanted to tell her he loved her.

Instead, he mouthed for her to leave. How much longer could he last? Not long. His lungs were burning for air as he watched someone launch at Sydney.

Vaughn desperately pushed off the hallway floor in search of air. His hands brushed against something solid. The ceiling. He was relieved to discover a few inches of air still lingered in the hallway above the water. He floated on the surface, gasping for air, grateful for each breath. And that's when what he was looking at registered.

An air vent.

Of course! Why hadn't that occurred to him earlier? It was his single saving grace in this hallway that had cement floors, walls, and ceilings all but where the holes had been made for the ventilation system. Although, one tug confirmed his suspicion that they were screwed in.

All that remained to be done was to get that grate off, and then he could crawl out of this damned building through the air ducts. Sydney had done so on more than one occasion, hadn't she?

Now that he had a way out, all he could do was pray that she'd somehow gotten out safely. And that he didn't get lost in the maze that was the ventilation system.

Taking a deep breath, he ducked underwater. Sydney was no longer on the other side of the door. Vaughn pondered this quickly. This could be good. Maybe she'd gotten out after all. But this could be bad too. What if she'd gotten caught?

'No time to worry', he told himself. Sydney was very capable at taking care of herself, after all. What he needed to worry about now was getting himself out alive.

Determined to do just that, he swam back towards his exit, and set to work.


	2. Revelations

Story: Beyond All Limits

Author: Steph (stephanie406@juno.com)

Disclaimer: Don't own Alias, or any characters thus portrayed. It all belongs to JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, ABC, etc.

Rating: PG-13 (for now)

Spoilers/Summary: post "After Thirty Years"; Vaughn's alive, and Sydney's been captured

Sydney sat handcuffed to the chair she sat in. She gave little attention to the passing thought of fainting from all the shock she was currently enduring.

Vaughn. In all probability? Dead. He'd worried about her too much. Come to save her yet again. But in the end, she'd barely saved herself. And she'd panicked, trying to save him too. And then he was gone. She could hope and pray, she supposed, but neither brought her any closer to actually believing he was still alive. She'd truthfully given up on hopes and prayers, dreams too, when she'd found out the truth about SD-6.

Khasinau. He'd not been anything in person like she'd imagined he'd be. Nothing at all. He was soft-spoken. And, of all things, somewhat considerate. He'd, after all, brought her something to eat. But with the images of Vaughn surrounded and trapped by water, a flood of her making, still so very fresh in her mind, she couldn't eat. The thought repulsed her.

Laura. Irina. Or whatever she went by now. Her mother. Not only was she alive and well, here she was standing in front of Sydney. The one person she had pursued, and now that she was face to face with her, Sydney suddenly felt very unsure of herself. Had it all been worth it for this moment? All the lives, the pain, the sacrifices? Maybe, to some degree, they were worth the price. But she'd likely lost yet another person she cared for, even dared to love, just for a chance to face _her_ that had been the cause of so much grief and suffering. Her mother. Oh dear God. Suddenly fainting didn't seem so bad after all.

"Mom?" she asked uncertainly. Scared of the answer.

The woman before her nodded. "Hello, Sydney," she said, standing in front of her daughter for the first time in years, the very image of poise and self-control. Nothing that Sydney felt at the moment.

There was only one coherent thought running through Sydney's head. "Why?" she asked, her voice cracking from emotion.

"'Why' what, Sydney? There are a lot of things I have done in my lifetime. Some of which you are now aware of, certainly. I have not the time to tell you my life story. Nor can I answer a question so vague."

Sydney stared blankly. This was nothing like she'd thought it would be like. Hell, she didn't know what exactly she'd been expecting! Suddenly, she felt as emotionless as her mother sounded. How could she, this evil, emotionless, feelingless _robot_ of a human be her own mother? How could Sydney have held beliefs about her mother that had turned out to be as far from the truth of her mother's person as truth could possibly be?

"What I want to know" she finally said, speaking slowly, coldly, "is _why_ you deceived us, your family, and everyone that knew you, loved you, respected you. _Why _you left? What I want to know, _mother_" Sydney sarcastically emphasized the title "is how one person could be so completely devoid of true emotion. How you could set out to purposely destroy a man simply wanting to serve his country, who wanted and thought he had love, and a family too. I want to know how you could abandon _your own child_!" she finished, screaming, gasping for breath.

"How can one person be so evil? So demonic? So power hungry and crazed? So cold and emotionally dead inside. How can you not even have a single decent, moral bone in your body?" Sydney's voice was steady now, deadly calm. "You know what?" she continued. "You don't deserve" she spat "to even be called by the title 'mother', for that would imply things that you simply can never be!"

Her angry tirade at her mother finished, at least for the moment, Sydney slumped down in her chair, meeting the other woman's gaze and holding it steady, glaring at her.

She was downright miserable. Her father had been right after all. What _could_ this woman _ever_ say that would right her wrongs? That could explain her actions to her daughter's satisfaction? Those words did not exist. They never had.

"We shall talk, another time perhaps, when you have had ample and sufficient opportunity to calm down." And with those words, Sydney watched as the woman who had brought her into the world turned on her heel and made to leave the room.

"Something I forgot to mention, just in case you actually have a sympathetic bone in your body for the child you bore, and cared for. One of the men you killed? I'm sure you don't even remember him, as cold-hearted as you are. William Vaughn. He was the father of a very good friend of mine." _And now that 'very good friend' has probably died as your mercy as well, you bitch._ What did it matter any more? Her mother knew she and her father were double agents. She knew about Vaughn. Had probably long been aware of the connection between the elder and younger agents.

And it didn't stop her from doing anything to assume her long abandoned mother role. She intentionally done things to hurt Sydney and the ones she loved.

Thus proved as the woman resumed walking out the door, slamming it shut behind her.

Sydney sat, numb from the interaction, or lack thereof, that had just taken place. And she sat uncomfortably, once again handcuffed into another hard wooden chair. This was sadly becoming a habit.

How had her father phrased it, exactly? That her pursuit of her mother was "clouding her judgment"? How could he have been so right, so many times? How could she have been so blinded? The truth had lain in front of her and she'd been too centered on her own selfish pain and loss to even see it.

Sydney finally allowed the tears to take over. No longer would she cry tears of anger, though. She would once again cry tears of loss. She'd lost her judgment and sensibility in this pursuit of truth.

She'd lost trust—the trust others had in her, and the trust she'd had in herself. And not only had trust vanished—so had respect, especially for herself.

She'd lost whatever little control she'd had left over her pathetically confusing life.

And maybe what hurt most of all. In losing Vaughn, she'd lost whatever chance of happiness, whatever shred of hope, and faith, she'd had left. She'd lost the last chance she'd allow herself at love. Loving and losing was painful enough. But loving and losing loved ones because of the work you did? Devastating.

For all that was and what could have been… she cried.

Like the many months ago, she felt she had nothing left to live for. Will was safe. As was Francie. For that she could be grateful. But the man she had fallen unwittingly in love with was yet another victim of her mother's.

She had little to live for. Nothing to lose.


	3. (Wo)man

Story: Beyond

Author: Steph (stephanie406@juno.com)

Disclaimer: Don't own Alias, or any characters thus portrayed. It all belongs to JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, ABC, etc.

Rating: PG-13 (for now)

Spoilers: post "After Thirty Years"

Note: since I haven't figured out how to get HTML to work in here, the [brackets] take the place of italics.

Vaughn was slowly crawling his way through the air ducts. It had taken him an insane amount of time to loosen the bolts holding the vent. All things considered, keys weren't exactly the best substitute for a screwdriver. But you made do with what you had, didn't you? Vaughn supposed so.

And now here he was at yet another intersection of ducts. He'd been valiantly trying to remember the twists and turns the hallway he'd run down had made. But, at the time, worry for Syd had preceded his absorption of his environment. But then again, worrying about her took precedence over practically all else in his life.

Well, if he was really honest with himself, he'd admit that nothing in his life had higher priority to him than everything that was Sydney.

"Pathetic. Just pathetic" he mumbled to himself. He decided to take the left fork in this metallic tunnel intersection. What could it hurt? Before he did that though, he pulled out his pen, and set to scratching arrows into the metal. He'd been very glad to discover it worked. 'Hansel and Gretel all over again' he thought, trying to find what amusement he could.

Because if he didn't get out of here soon, he'd go insane. Literally. Every so often there was another vent and he could peek down at the hallway below. Every time he heard voices, he'd had to stop and wait for the person or persons to pass by. As it was, he was creeping along at a very slow pace, trying not to make any noise at all whatsoever.

It was nerve wracking. Completely and totally nerve wracking.

Another glance at his watch and Vaughn grimaced. In case of troubles, they'd set up a secondary meeting place with a later meeting time. And time had just passed. Assuming that Jack had stuck by the plan (and Jack was never one to much deviate from plan), the plane was now airborne for LA. Hopefully, with Sydney safe on it. And Will as well.

Vaughn could no longer hold a grudge against Will. He understood why Will's concern for Sydney's safety had taken him to such extreme lengths. Really, he understood more than he cared to admit. And suddenly, jealousy was becoming empathy. Sympathy as well, just imagining the shock, torture and pain the unsuspecting man had unknowingly stumbled upon.

He was approaching another intersection. He was getting sick of making choices.

Vaughn stiffened into silence as muffled noise reached his ears.

So far his method had been quieting until the people had passed below, and then turning either to follow them or go where they'd come from. People in halls meant maybe populated main halls, and eventually an exit.

This time was no different. He inched closer to the nearest vent to watch where these people went, deciding to go this time where they'd come from.

That thought vanished as soon as the voices drifting towards him went from droning voices into distinguishable conversation.

"Was she alone, do we know?" a female asked.

They stopped, right below Vaughn.

"She would not say. But the guard who brought her in said she was attempting to break the glass in the door to rescue someone. Her accomplice apparently. And I'm sure he now enjoys a rather watery grave" replied a male.

'If only you knew' Vaughn thought.

"Unfortunately, her little escapade has set us yet further behind schedule. She seems to have inherited my talent for destruction, at least."

Vaughn was jolted at the sudden realization that it was Sydney's mother that he was listening to. And Sydney was still here. 'Damn'. And if he wasn't hearing things, was it actually a tinge of pride he had heard in her voice in that last statement? He thought he was going to be sick. This woman was more sick and twisted than anyone had thought.

He tuned back into the conversation in time to hear her refer to her partner as 'Alexander'. 'Khasinau' he thought instantly. Oddly enough, she seemed to be giving _him the orders though. Puzzling. And then Vaughn's mouth dropped open in shock and realization._

'The Man' wasn't Khasinau. In fact, 'the Man' wasn't a man at all!

Vaughn lay numbly in shock for a moment after they parted ways. And then he began to quickly scramble in the direction Khasinau had gone, on the order of taking Sydney something to eat and making "damn sure she ate it this time.'"

This was information overload unlike he'd ever experienced before in his life.

And it wasn't over yet. Not by a long shot.

*AN ~ Well? What'd ya think? Feedback PLEASE!!!! Will's POV chapter is next! (Feedback would help in it getting posted faster… hehe)*


	4. Truths

Story: Beyond

Author: Steph (stephanie406@juno.com)

Disclaimer: Don't own Alias, or any characters thus portrayed. It all belongs to JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, ABC, etc.

Rating: PG-13 (for now)

Spoilers: post "After Thirty Years"

Note: I love HTML, really, I do, but I have yet to figure out how to get it to work on these uploads… so as before, the [brackets] take place of italics

"Here" a voice said, breaking through Will's thoughts. His eyes focused on a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin being held out to him.

"Thanks" he mumbled, taking both from Jack. Who would have thought that Jack Bristow was considerate enough to look after someone? Let alone Will Tippin, AKA, Sydney's snoopy reporter friend.

Speaking of Sydney… "Where's Syd?" he asked abruptly. His suspicions rose when a flash of some emotion was quickly replaced by Jack's well-known and reputed poker face.

"I don't know," he answered.

"What do you _mean_, you '_don't know_'?!" Will felt himself getting angry. "She came _with_ you, didn't she?"

When Jack didn't answer him right away, Will found all the truth he needed in the older man's silence. Will slumped dejectedly in his seat. "We left her behind, didn't we?" he barely croaked out. 'Oh dear God, please let her be all right, wherever she is' he silently prayed.

"There was no other choice, Mr. Tippin. There was a meeting time and place. She knew what would happen if she didn't show on time. It was for everyone's safety" he finished, his voice gentler now than it had been. "She'll be all right, Will."

Will didn't find the reassurance comforting.

His mind switched mental tracks. "Jack" he said hesitantly. "Would they have killed me had I actually known anything about this 'circumference'?"

"Probably" Jack admitted. He handed Will a damp towel. "To clean yourself up with" he explained at Will's puzzled look.

"Oh." Will paused, and even more hesitantly then before, told him "Jack… thank you. Thank you for _not_ telling me even when I wanted to know. Thank you for saving my life. Mostly, thank you for caring enough to save me."

Will met Jack's gaze, held it for a minute, then had to look away from the most emotion he'd ever seen present in this man's eyes.

Maybe he did appear to be an evil ogre most of the time. But under that façade was a man who truly cared for his daughter, and for the welfare of her friends.

Will wanted to cry. His eyes welled up, but he refused to give in to them. Not now. Not again. Hopefully there wouldn't be reason to.

He bit his lip, tasting blood. Yet more blood. Who knew if he'd just done that to himself, or whether he was still tasting blood from his "emergency dental work" earlier. He no longer cared where the blood came from; although he was passingly surprised he could still taste and differentiate the taste of it.

'Sydney, where are you?' his mind called out desperately.

Maybe he'd allow himself to cry once more after all, seeing as how he was here, thousands of feet in the air and hundreds of miles away from where Sydney was. _They'd had to leave her behind_. And the distance between them only continued to grow as the plane continued towards LA.

AN: Okay, sorry the updates are so slow. They would seriously be more frequent. But my computer isn't online at work yet (their IT dept is seriously slow about getting my acct reactivated). So I've been handwriting chapters. I'm up to about 14. So as soon as I get them typed (and am happy with amount of feedback I'm getting), you'll be seeing updates… As always though, lemme know what you're thinking!


	5. Haunting Sorrows

Story: Beyond

Author: Steph (stephanie406@juno.com)

Disclaimer: Don't own Alias, or any characters thus portrayed. It all belongs to JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, ABC, etc.

Rating: PG-13 (for now)

Spoilers: post "After Thirty Years"

Updated Note: Okay, a wonderfully attentive reader drew my attention to something wrong in this chapter, so it's been fixed. Thanks much!

It seemed like an eternity since her mother had left. _Scratch that. It had seemed like an eternity since __that woman had left._

But, realistically, it had only probably been an hour or so. She couldn't twist to read her watch. No matter. At least her father and Will should be safely on their way home by now.

_Home. Sydney sighed. What she wouldn't give right now for a hot bubble bath and a glass of wine… even just for a glass of water._

Sydney closed her eyes. Maybe visualization would help.

She pictured herself on the beach, tanning. Suddenly a bottle of cold water appeared in front of her face. Her eyes gazed at the hand that held it, trailed up the muscular tan arm that the hand belonged to, raked her eyes across a broad, bare chest, and up to his face. _Vaughn._

Real life Sydney swallowed hard, furiously blinking away another wave of tears that threatened to consume her soul.

_Damn it! Why wouldn't Vaughn's face stop haunting her? Every look he'd ever given her had been dredged from her memory and paraded in front of her eyes._

Life wasn't fair. Sydney knew this. Her whole life since her mother's disappearance had been all about being unfair.

This memory taunting was just plain cruel though. This time, she had no one other than herself to blame.

Sydney sighed again, and was just about to indulge in another round of self-pity, when noise on the other side of the door alerted her to the presence of someone.

The door handle turned and the door pushed inward. Khasinau. Bearing yet another tray of food.

"She insists that you eat this time," he said in that soft-spoken way, taking a seat across from her.

Sydney looked down at the tray he balanced across his lap. Another bowl of some kind of meat and potatoes style stew. _And a nice tall refreshing glass of ice water._

Well, God must still hear her at any rate.

Sydney cooperated this time, allowing him to spoon-feed her the stew. He'd chuckled amusedly as she'd quickly gulped down the water after the stew was gone.

Sydney eyed him curiously as he set the cup back on the tray, and then set the tray on a nearby table.

"What made you do it?" she asked.

"Do what exactly? I have done many things."

'Must be the standard stock response to vague questions' she thought. Strange, how similar their answers had been.

"Join the KGB," she answered. "Pretend to be 'the Man' when it was really her all along? And how in the _world can you still be living this life and even be remotely happy doing it?"_

Khasinau looked at her for a moment, digesting her questions. "I loved her," he said simply, shrugging his shoulders. "Your mother" he clarified at her confused look.

Sydney felt horrified… and she also felt pity. This man too had fallen under the spell of that _damned woman. He, too, still suffered the consequences._

But Sydney could certainly empathize when it came to unrequited love, of sorts. Not that Vaughn hadn't loved her, or she him, just that neither had been able to do a thing about it. In the end, it had killed him.

Certainly made for life to be a living hell.

Sydney sighed. It was becoming a habit of sorts. "I'm sorry" she told him, truly sorry for the pain this man had also felt at the hand of _that woman._

He nodded in acknowledgement. They held gazes for a moment, reading the depth of each other's pain, evaluating it.

And then he stood, gathered the tray, and left, telling her he'd be back in the morning with breakfast. And for her to try and get some rest. And that 'she' had asked him to tell Sydney she'd also be by in the morning.

'Joy' she thought sarcastically. 'I just can't wait!' Gag me.

AN: Okay, that's it for tonight. Scout's honor that I'll try very hard to get more chapters typed up and uploaded soon… Although I don't really think I'm doing too bad at the moment! *grin* Ah well… leave me lots of feedback! *mwah*


	6. Long-Awaited Hellos

Story: Beyond All Limits

Author: Steph (stephanie406@juno.com)

Disclaimer: Don't own Alias, or any characters thus portrayed. It all belongs to JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, ABC, etc.; CD approved

Rating: PG-13 (for now)

Spoilers/Summary : post "After Thirty Years"; Vaughn's alive, and Sydney's been captured

AN: Thanks much to the highly attentive reader that caught my little name mix up with the last chapter. I fixed it, but unfortunately the file is on another disk. I'll switch it out when I get online later, promise. But basically, whatever lines that were in it that referred to Calder were removed. Thanks again, and R/R!

He'd waited in the duct outside the room Khasinau had entered with a mix of patience and impatience. Vaughn knew he had to be patient and quiet, so as not to alert anyone to his presence. But he was getting impatient with waiting. Not to mention, that stew had _really_ smelled good.

Just as Vaughn's patience was finally wearing thin, the door below opened, Khasinau stepped out, and the door shut behind him. His departing words to Sydney greatly relieved Vaughn. He and Sydney would have ample escape time. Khasinau disappeared down a hallway. Vaughn was already crawling by the time he heard a door close farther down the hall, assumingly closing behind Khasinau.

All the sudden, Vaughn heard what, to him, had to be the sweetest sound in the entire world. Sydney's voice. He took caution in case there was someone else in the room with her. He peered through the first vent and saw nothing. Same with the second.

'Bingo' he thought, peering down from the third vent, amazingly right above her head. He looked around to see who she was talking to. And then promptly burst out laughing when he realized that she was muttering to a small potted plant on the table beside her.

He watched as she stiffened at the sound of his voice. She cautiously looked upwards, her eyes finding his through the slats. And then her mouth dropped open, soon to close and turn upward in a relieved, if somewhat tremorous, smile. "Vaughn?" she whispered.

His name had never sounded so wonderful to him. Ever.

"Hey Syd" he greeted her. "Making new friends I see."

Tears filled her eyes and began to spill down her already tear-stained cheeks.

Was she crying for him? Oh Sydney… Vaughn sighed quietly, wishing he could hold her and comfort her.

"Is it really you?" she asked, squinting through her tears. "I… I thought you were dead" she hiccuped through her tears. Vaughn was hard at work trying to remove the vent cover. He'd thought taking the _other_ one off had been difficult, but that was nothing compared to trying to loosen screws from the wrong side.

Vaughn chuckled softly. "Of course it's me, Syd. You can't get rid of me that easily!" He paused for a minute, concentrating hard on his hands. "And for a minute there myself, I'd had the same morbid thoughts. Tried getting you to leave, but you were being your stubborn self as usual." He heard her laugh. That was good. He continued, saying "And then I discovered some air at the top of the hallway, and a vent. Been crawling up here, aimlessly it seems, ever since."

"How'd you find me? Even I have no idea where I am."

"Good detective work" he said, grinning. _Yeah right_, he thought. His grin grew wider as one of the washers finally came off and the screw fell out.

"Oww!" he heard.

"Sorry Syd" he called, already working away at his second washer. All he needed was to get two screws out, and the vent could then be pushed down, and Sydney pulled up.

"S'okay" she replied distractedly. Curiously he peeked down at her to find her hands vigorously trying to pick the handcuffs with something… was that a _fork_? Vaughn grinned.

'That's my girl' he thought.

A minute later, he heard her cry of triumph. She stood, massaged her wrists, and then looked up in time to see the second screw falling. "Ah ha" she said, catching and pocketing the screw like a souvenir. "Didn't get me that time" she teased, her head lifted and giving him a teasing grin as he pushed the vent down and poked his head out.

Her smile made his heart skip a beat. He smiled back. Her smiles were always infectious. "So I see" he told her, and reached his hand down to lift her up.

She shook her head. Vaughn moved back and let her climb on the chair and boost herself in. "It's just easier to do it that way" she told him, and reached down to try and pull the vent cover back in some of the way. Whatever time could be bought by covering their escape route. Seemingly satisfied, she turned to him.

"Hey" she whispered.

"Hi" he whispered back, suddenly realizing just how confined of a space they were in.

Suddenly and completely without warning, her hands were on his cheeks, drawing him towards her, and she was leaning towards him. And then she was kissing him.

Sydney Bristow was _kissing_ him.

Vaughn moaned softly, groaning in disappointment when she pulled away.

Now that her eyes had adjusted to the dark, and she'd completely scrambled his brain, she was all business. "So which way is out?" she asked, crawling over him to lead the way.

Two could play at this game. "Your guess is as good as mine" he told her. You could hear his shrug in his voice. "I came from the left though" he informed her. He was deciding that crawling behind her, watching that perfect little derriere, even if it was in the dark, was an acceptable substitute for kissing.

Well, as long as he got more of those kisses, than this would be fine for the meantime. He smiled to himself.


	7. Escape

Story: Beyond All Limits

Author: Steph (stephanie406@juno.com)

Disclaimer: Don't own Alias, or any characters thus portrayed. It all belongs to JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, ABC, etc.

Rating: PG-13 (for now)

Spoilers: post "After Thirty Years"

Sydney was used to being the one that did the rescuing. She didn't need rescued herself all that often.

But just when she'd resigned herself to her fate, just when she'd given up all hope… her knight in (dusty) armor had arrived to save her.

Sydney was still mulling this over.

God definitely must still love her, even though she rarely had occasion anymore to believe in Him. But only God could have created this wonderful man, her personal Savior and Guardian Angel all in one. Michael Vaughn.

Who, no doubt the darkness, had his eyes glued to her ass at the moment. She could still feel his burning gaze. She could still feel his lips on hers.

Why, oh why, had she kissed him?

Sydney didn't know. She'd acted on impulse. But she did know that she wanted to do it again, and again, and again… Even though she knew she could never do it again. Or, more precisely, she never could again as long as SD-6 existed and her life as a double agent continued.

She respected him, admired him, _loved _him too much to put him in that kind of danger. Danny had already suffered those consequences. So had Will.

But still. At any rate, thank _God_ for Agent Michael Vaughn.

Sydney stopped at another duct intersection, peering at the hallway below for any sign of familiarity. She noticed some pen scratchings between her hands. She smiled.

Ah yes. Thank God in many, many ways for Michael Vaughn.

One last glimpse through the vent from another angle finally presented Sydney with a marker she could use—a door with another one of those strange numbers on the wall. Number 17. Suddenly, Sydney knew exactly where she was. She'd studied the blueprints her father had had earlier. And she did have the added bonus of a photographic memory.

"I know where we are," she whispered back at Vaughn.

"Thank God" he mumbled. "My knees are killing me."

She didn't give him more time to complain. She turned right and set off once more in the complicated maze.

Half an hour later, following their crawling _up_ three stories of dusty ventilation, she and an equally dusty Vaughn stood quietly on the roof, taking in their surroundings.

Sydney crept quietly around the perimeter of the roof, leaning over to see how many, if any, guards they were up against.

Strangely, considering the amount of "high profile" people in the building, there was very little security she could see. And plenty of shrubbery off to one side. A virtual forest.

Sydney motioned Vaughn over to where she stood next to the edge of the roof. The side of the building against the shrubbery was completely unguarded. And even stranger enough, a few vehicles were parked hazardously next to the building.

Vaughn looked over the side and then back at her with his eyebrows rose in amazement. "You'd almost think they _wanted_ us to leave," he whispered.

Sydney didn't like the sound of that. She did not like traps, not at all. But if all really was good, then she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Even if this did turn out to be a trap after all, it was a chance at escape they had to take. Their position on the roof was perilous at best.

They had a two-story drop to the ground. That was nothing. She'd jumped farther, in much different, more difficult situations. This time, no guards, no guard dogs to contend with if they could drop down quietly. And assuming there were no motion detection lights.

Strange. It was definitely all very strange.

Sydney didn't like it one bit. It didn't sit well with her. An easy escape route available with _that woman_ in the building? Not very likely. But that's exactly what it seemed to be.

Sydney took a few deep breaths trying to calm her fears. All they had to do was jump, and run the few blocks to the car they'd left behind earlier.

Sydney took the step onto the ledge of the roof, and taking a lungful of precious air, she leaped, landing hard, but almost noiselessly on the ground below.

Seconds later, Vaughn joined her.

Sydney crept into the bushes and turned back to survey their surroundings. Still no evidence of security on this side of the building. But she could hear the guards talking from their posts on other sides of the warehouse.

Sydney crept farther into the shadows, making sure Vaughn was keeping close. As soon as she thought they were far enough away that snapping twigs under their feet wouldn't catch the attention of the security, she ran.

Well, if anything, Sydney Bristow always knew she had timing. Because all the sudden, bright lights were filtering through the woods and the warehouse exploded with sound.

It was still dark outside. But the moon hung low in the sky and a faint tinge of color lit the eastern horizon.

Sydney looked behind her, and seeing Vaughn lagging behind, she slowed till he'd caught up to her. Seeing him back there… it gave Sydney a sick sense of déja vu.

She wasn't going to leave him behind ever again.

Even if it meant grabbing his hand and pulling him along with her. Which is exactly what she did.

Sydney sighed with relief when she spotted their rental car. She punched the keyless code into the door and hopped into the driver's seat, unlocked Vaughn's door, and was peeling rubber before his door had even closed.

If the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach was anything to judge by, it wasn't over yet. Not by a long shot.


	8. Changing Faces

Story: Beyond All Limits

Author: Steph (stephanie406@juno.com)

Disclaimer: Don't own Alias, or any characters thus portrayed. It all belongs to JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, ABC, etc.

Rating: PG-13 (for now)

Spoilers/Summary : post "After Thirty Years"; Vaughn's alive, and Sydney's been captured

"Do we have a plan here, Syd, or are we just driving around?" Vaughn asked tersely. His right hand gripped the handle above his head next to the car door. His left hand had a similar death grip on the edge of his seat.

Sydney was a maniacal driver, he was discovering, taking hard, fast turns, accelerating quickly, passing the few cars out at this time of night. Well, actually, somewhere in the late early morning hours.

The getaway was looking good… if she didn't kill them first. Or attract the attention of a police car.

Vaughn sighed.

"I rarely, if ever, don't have a plan, Vaughn. And that includes a backup plan, and usually even a backup for the backup." She flashed him a smile that was supposed to convey 'Relax. I've got this all figured out. You're safe with me.'

He got the message all right. But he wasn't relaxing.

She quickly changed lanes again.

Vaughn thought he might be sick.

"So you have a plan and at least one backup. That's great. But I'd kinda like to know what you're up to. You know, partners and all that jazz."

Suddenly, they weren't on the main road anymore. She screeched to a halt, grabbed her cell phone, unbuckled and got out.

"Come one. Phase two to the escape is in that building" she told him, pointing to a dockside warehouse. She closed her care door and began walking, finally taking a split second to pull off that hideous blue wig and toss it back in the general direction of the car.

Vaughn quickly scrambled after her. Did he really have any other choice?

He closed the warehouse door behind him, and as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he wondered what the hell she was up to now.

On one wall, racks of clothes hung neatly inside clear plastic bags. Shoeboxes were stacked, assumingly by size. Sydney was currently rifling through a trunk, and emerged with a wig in each hand.

"Here" she called, holding one out to him. "We've got to hurry."

"Where _are_ we?" he asked hesitantly, although he certainly had his suspicions.

She confirmed them, telling him "SD-6 costume warehouse". She was now flipping through the racks of clothes.

'Holy mother of God' Vaughn thought.

His reflexes kicked in to catch a pair of jeans Sydney tossed his way, followed in quick succession by a blue dress shirt and a jacket.

And then she started taking off her clothes… that black mesh shirt that hid nothing. The sparkly armband that covered the scar left from Dixon's knife. The pants that clung to her in ways that spawned very bad thoughts in Vaughn's mind. And then, with her back to him, she reached behind her to unclasp the bra that matched those pants in material and spawning bad thoughts.

Sydney Bristow stood less than 10 feed away from him wearing nothing more than a pair of low rising bikini panties. Fire engine red, nonetheless.

Vaughn swallowed hard and quickly spun around and started stripping, trying very hard not to think about both of them standing there wearing next to nothing and with absolutely no intentions of the sexual sort.

Dear God in heaven, someone was out to torture him… very slowly in fact… And it was working too!

Vaughn quickly yanked the jeans up, shrugged into the shirt and jacket, and was buttoning the shirt as he turned around to see a woman that in no way resembled Sydney on the surface. She had curly long auburn hair, was wearing a white tank top and khaki Capri's. She was leaning into a mirror, putting contacts in. Syd had blue eyes now, he noticed when he stepped next to her to look in the mirror as he pulled his wig on. Some shaggy blond thing.

Vaughn grinned at himself when it was finally on right. Except for his eye color, he kind of resembled a thinner version of that blond guy in that one boyband... He thought for a second. Oh yeah! The Backstreet Boys, that was it…

Vaughn had to laugh at that. Who would have thought what a different haircut could do for him?

Suddenly, Sydney had grabbed his hand and was pulling him along behind her again. She stopped and grabbed a random set of keys off a rack, opened a desk drawer and box that seemed to be some kind of petty cash drawer. She emptied it and moved on, pushing the unlock button on the key.

A silver Mercedes' lights blinked as the car unlocked. 'Niiiice choice, Syd' he thought, climbing in next to her.

"Next stop, the airport" she told him, peeling out of the warehouse. She seemed to like doing that.

Assuming it was smooth sailing from here? This could be good. But there was a sick feeling of dread in his stomach, the butterflies letting Vaughn know that this wasn't over yet.

Author's Note: *cackles* oh, my dear dear readers… you will want to kill me sometime in the near future. I have up to chapter 15 written. But that's not what you'll kill me over… A major idea has trickled into my brain, and I'm so going to run with it… mwahaha! Ah, I do love brainstorms, don't you? Hehe… R/R as always!


	9. A Parent's Worry

Story: Beyond All Limits

Author: Steph (stephanie406@juno.com)

Disclaimer: Don't own Alias, or any characters thus portrayed. It all belongs to JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, ABC, etc.

Rating: PG-13 (for now)

Spoilers: post "After Thirty Years"

Jack was worried. He'd never let this on to Will, but he was definitely worried.

He knew his daughter, probably better than she thought he did. She would have called by now if she'd gotten out safely.

The plane had just landed at the same small, private airstrip it had left the day before.

The plane had had three passengers yesterday.

Now it only held two… only one of whom was an original passenger.

Had he been anyone but Jack Bristow, he'd be sick to his stomach at all the possibilities of what may have held Sydney up. As well as Agent Vaughn.

He'd meant it when he told Vaughn he respected him for what he was doing. Because, better than most, Vaughn knew what he was up against, between helping Sydney and defying CIA policy. If he made it out alive, who knew what they'd do to him? The CIA really disliked individuals who didn't follow protocol, live by the rules of Agent life, who dared to defy and think on their own. They'd only tolerated Jack's own methods because they needed him. Besides, they couldn't argue with the fact that his methods usually worked.

But Vaughn? They considered him completely replaceable as Sydney's handler. Of course, Jack already knew Sydney's opinion of the matter, and Jack was actually beginning to agree with his headstrong daughter.

That so-called "emotional attachment" both Sydney and Vaughn held for each other… well, given recent circumstances, it may be the only reason Sydney was still alive. She hadn't been in the business long enough to be able to suppress all her emotions. She still needed to feel that there was someone she could trust, no matter what; someone that knew everything about her life; someone she held no secrets from.

You don't trust your life to someone you hardly know. Or at least, Sydney wouldn't.

Jack disembarked, not at all surprised to find two black cars flanking his own. He unlocked his car and motioned for Will to go and wait for him. And then Jack stood his ground, out of earshot of his vehicle, waiting for the group of agents to emerge from the safety of their standard I-work-for-the-government-don't-mess-with-me-if-you-value-your-life cars. He knew the routine. Even had the car to qualify for the job.

They had just formed what would have been formidable semi-circle to someone else in front of him, when his phone rang. Jack's hand reached into his coat pocket and deftly plucked it out. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the name flashing on his Caller ID screen. _Sydney_.

He answered the call, ignoring the agents in front of him (Devlin included). "Sydney, where are you?" he asked her, the gruffness in his voice the only sign of his emotions. Acting cold and nonchalant as he normally did was the only way he could keep his emotions hidden. He didn't know of any other way of hiding them from curious eyes.

"Driving for the airport. What are the options for getting out of here Dad?"

_Dad_. Jack had to fight the moisture from rushing to his eyes and flooding there at the sound of her voice. She was alive and okay. Her calling him 'Dad' just then was almost his undoing.

"We can get an extraction team there in short order once we know your position. Or you could just get on the next flight out if it's soon. Charter a plane. Whatever. Just _get out of there_, Sydney. NOW" he emphasized.

Devlin caught Jack's attention. "Where is Sydney exactly?" he asked.

"Taipei. With Vaughn" Jack told him shortly.

Devlin's eyebrows rose. So he hadn't been aware of Vaughn's whereabouts. Jack shrugged. It wasn't surprising, and he had more important things to deal with right now than Devlin realizing he had a missing agent.

"Let me talk to her" Devlin ordered, holding out his hand for the phone.

Suddenly, Jack heard loud cursing in his ear. "We've got a tail," she informed him.

Not good.

Now Vaughn was on the phone. Devlin still stood holding his hand out.

Jack snapped into action, updating Devlin as he headed for his car. "Get them an extraction team, somewhere, _NOW_!" he growled at the agents, sending them scurrying away with their cell phones in hand. "I'll meet you at headquarters" he told Devlin. Jack was in his car and peeling out of the gate, not giving Devlin room to argue.

Jack knew that as long as he knew his daughter was alive, he'd be okay. He couldn't afford to lose his daughter too. Not now, when the ice he'd put their relationship on years ago was finally beginning to thaw. Not when he was finally allowing himself to visibly care for someone again.

Fear of losing her had been the real reason he'd distanced himself from her in the first place.

Jack actually gave praying a passing thought as he sped through the early morning LA traffic.

'A cold day in hell may have just arrived' he thought. Something about this just did not feel right at all.

AN: wow huh? Jack a thawed out man is a mind-boggling concept, I know, but we've all seen it coming I hope. J As for that last note I left about this wonderful little story plot you guys will probably want to kill me over… I think I'm just going to make that into a second story. Got to have something to leave you hanging on for, right? Lol


	10. Cat and Mouse

Story: Beyond All Limits

Author: Steph (stephanie406@juno.com)

Disclaimer: Don't own Alias, or any characters thus portrayed. It all belongs to JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, ABC, etc.

Rating: PG-13 (for now)

Spoilers/Summary : post "After Thirty Years"; Vaughn's alive, and Sydney's been captured

Okay, so this ass has probably been following us since we left the warehouse. It didn't surprise Sydney at all that _that woman would be monitoring the local SD-6 warehouse for signs of her escapee daughter. She should have been more careful about monitoring for potential tails._

But if it was the case they'd been waiting for Sydney to show up, then why hadn't they made a move there? It was confusing, considering they'd chosen following her, knowing that there was a chance they could lose her. She was very good at doing that. They had to know it, didn't they?

Sydney let out a frustrated sigh, knowing that she couldn't let them know yet that she knew they were following her. But still. She had to find a way to shake them, even if she had to be more inconspicuous about it.

Which was going to be hard to do, considering where they were—on a deserted highway, mostly residential with the occasional gas station and grocery story sprinkled in between. The sun had just risen over the horizon. Only the early commuters would be out this early.

"GPS in the glove box" she told Vaughn. "Find where we are and help me shake this bastard." She hadn't meant it to come out as harsh as it had… but, circumstances being what they were… Vaughn would forgive her.

Sydney heard him mumbling from the passenger seat, plugging info into the handheld device. He was also relaying their position as best he could to her father over the phone.

"Take a right immediately after the next light" he finally told her. Sydney did as she was told, abruptly pulling off the road. He followed with more instructions, finally leading her onto a main street with considerably more traffic than the previous street had had.

Thank God.

Sydney was back in her element, switching lanes quickly, weaving in and out of traffic, passing people. She was speeding, going just a little faster than all the vehicles around her, enough to move quickly but not attract too much attention to herself. The methods of a spy…

Her jaw was clenched in concentration, her teeth clenched tightly together—the only visible apparent signs of her worry.

She took another hard, fast right turn, quickly backing into a long shadowy, tree-lined driveway. And held her breath.

Sydney couldn't help but think about how much easier the mouse got away from the cat in these games in the shadows of the dark. She hated playing 'cat and mouse'. But wasn't that pretty much her job description?

She and Vaughn were crouched low over in their seats. Sure enough, the black sedan that had been following them sped down the street. They both breathed sighs of relief. Sydney even dared to flash him a quick smile as she started the car and cautiously crept back out onto the street.

Once back on the main street, Vaughn got busy plugging coordinates again. And then he relayed good news from her father. If they could get to a certain meeting point, an extraction team would be there to retrieve them within the hour.

Sydney knew how excruciating an hour's wait could be when it was your life on the line. But they didn't have any other choice right now. Now that they were aware that their escape was known, they had to lay low, and stay away from public places like the airport that were probably full of black sedans and suited men who wouldn't hesitate to pull their guns on Sydney.

She couldn't risk that. Not when it was no longer just herself she had to think about. There was Vaughn too.

"Uh… Syd?" the person she'd just been thinking about's voice broke into her thoughts. "You've got an incoming call" he told her.

"So answer it" she told him. Only her father and the CIA knew that number. Well, at least until whomever the mole had been had leaked the information to Sark.

She heard Vaughn answer the call. And then all she heard was silence. Sydney quickly looked over at him quizzically, puzzled when he just silently handed her the phone. He looked pale, she observed, her stomach suddenly tied in knots.

"Who is this?" she asked. She wasn't going to beat around the bush, not if the look in Vaughn's eyes was anything to go by.

"Hello Sydney" came the bone-chilling reply. Sark. Again.

This couldn't be good. He never could be good. He was never _up to anything good._

Sydney closed her eyes briefly, the pain that had washed over her during their last phone encounter washing over her anew.

Sydney Bristow was scared. Her mind incessantly repeating one word: _shitshitshitshitSHIT. What else could she think? Something was wrong, she could sense that. Terribly, terribly wrong._

"You see, Sydney, love" he started. Sydney involuntarily shivered at the pet name. "There were suspicions about your quiet compliance earlier. Even your friend, Mr. Vaughn, knows you well enough to know you don't just take things quietly and move on. No, Sydney, love, you take action, whatever action your devious little mind can think up. So based on your, shall we say, _colorful past behavior to date, we decided it would be in our best interests to collect some collateral, if you will."_

Sydney quickly pulled the car off the road, shifted into park and shut the engine down. It was deathly quiet when she finally bit out a reply. "What have you done _now, you sick, twisted son-of-a-bitch bastard?" The sick feeling of impending and very close doom had settled over her whole being now._

Momentary silence. And then Sydney heard the familiar sound that a scared individual makes—erratic breathing, whimpering… "Oh God" Sydney whispered, horror overcoming her as awareness dawned on her. _Francie. She whispered her friends name quietly, questioningly, ever hopeful that she was wrong._

"Syd?" came her best friend's scared and timid voice. "Oh God, Syd" she choked on a sob.

"Francie, sweetie… I'm so sorry, baby. I love you. It's gonna be okay" Sydney whispered in what she hoped was a soothing voice. She wasn't as sure of herself as her words sounded to her ears.

Francie's sobs faded into the background. Sark was back on the phone. "What do you want?" she asked. Normally, she'd demand. But this little surprise had hit hard, and low, and all Sydney wanted to do was do whatever it took to get Francie out of this unscathed.

And maybe she hadn't demanded. But Sydney was starting to see red. She was getting very, dangerously angry. It just wasn't enough that SD-6 had killed Danny. That they'd almost killed her, and she'd put herself on the line time and time again getting back into their good graces. Oh, no, never ever enough. Then she'd been taken into custody on that God-awful witch hunt spawned by the Rambaldi document that should have sent them scurrying after the very woman who was now responsible for risking Will's life and kidnapping Francie.

Where would the line be drawn? When would enough be enough?

"You'll meet us at the airport, which I'm quite sure is where you were headed anyway" came Sark's voice. Sydney struggled to keep herself in check. "We'll be waiting. You in exchange for you friend. A simple exchange really. And as soon as you are secured, Agent Vaughn will be allowed to escort your friend back to the States." And then the call disconnected and Sydney was back on the line with her father.

"There's been a change of plans" she informed him, turning the key and letting the engine roar to life. The tires squealed in protest as she peeled out of the parking lot and back onto the street. "Get me to that damned airport _now!"_

"Syd, what the hell…?" Vaughn trailed off questioningly. Her father was sounding much the same.

"They have Francie" she said quietly, her tone of voice belying her inner turmoil. Both men were quiet momentarily.

"What are their terms?" her father asked, back to business.

"They want me in exchange for her."

Vaughn and her father exploded into noisy protestations at the same time.

"Absolutely not" came her father's voice.

"Syd, no…" came Vaughn's reply.

"I'm doing it. I'm the reason they have her, so there will be no limit to what I'm willing to do to secure her safety. Now stop trying to change my mind" she ordered, glaring sideways at Vaughn, who had the good graces to blush guiltily. "Now, Vaughn, get me to that airport. Dad, inform the extraction team of the exchange of plans. We'll wait for them before the exchange occurs. I want to be assured of their safety above all else."

Sydney shot Vaughn another glare to quiet his protestations before they started, as she knew he invariably would. Instead, he held her gaze. _What about your__ safety, Sydney? They seemed to silently plead._

_Let me worry about that she let her eyes reply. His gaze broke from hers first, his hands busying themselves with the GPS system._

"Dad…" she said hesitantly into the phone. "Whatever happens, I love you," she whispered, then quickly pulled the phone from her ear and disconnected her father, not giving him a chance to reply. She dropped the phone onto the seat next to her.

Back to business. "So, where are we?" she asked, and proceeded to follow Vaughn's directions to the airport, in the meanwhile, valiantly fighting the tears swimming her eyes that threatened to spill over in a virtual flood.

This wasn't going to end well. She knew that already. That was her gut feeling, literally, since her stomach was tied in even more knots than it had been before.

Acting on impulse, Sydney reached over the distance that separated them and grasped Vaughn's hand tightly in hers for the remainder of the way, fighting the lump in her throat now too.

AN: so I'm turning into a feedback whore. So sue me… wait, don't take me up on that offer! Lol. And yes, as I said before, I have up to chapter 15 written, and also as I said before the problem being is that it's handwritten at the moment. And note to the person that left the little comment about the marshall quote reference in chapter 3: it has now been deleted, seeing as how it really was unnecessary and all that… anyway, feedback and you shall have your precious next chapter in short time!


	11. The Tradeoff

Story: Beyond All Limits

Author: Steph (stephanie406@juno.com)

Disclaimer: Don't own Alias, or any characters thus portrayed. It all belongs to JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, ABC, etc.

Rating: PG-13 (for now)

Spoilers/Summary : post "After Thirty Years"; Vaughn's alive, and Sydney's been captured

Distribution: I'd love it if you would, just let me know where it's going! CD definitely has all rights to posting (grin)

Oh dear God. This could not be happening.

But it was.

Vaughn and Sydney sat quietly together in the car. They could see Sark and his crew of henchmen parked a fair distance away, patiently waiting.

"Vaughn" she said, breaking the silence. She turned to him and his heart jumped into his throat. The look in her eyes... She was just so beautiful, even if she had auburn hair and blue eyes. She was still Sydney to him, no matter what she looked like on the outside. She would always be beautiful to him.

Oh God. That look... The pain, all the pain that was there in her eyes for him to see. She wasn't hiding her fear anymore. She almost looked... defeated.

He could have drowned in her pain; the look in her eyes was so overwhelming.

Her left hand moved over and caressed his cheek, audibly scraping against the stubble that had grown in the past day. His head unconsciously leaned into the touch. His left hand still held hers, his thumb gently, absently, caressing the back of her hand.

She cleared her throat and looked away. "Oh God, Vaughn... I'm... I'm scared," she confessed in hushed whisper so soft he could barely hear her. She glanced back at him. 'This wasn't supposed to happen. It didn't have to end like this' were the unspoken words. She didn't have to say them. He knew exactly what she was thinking, for he was thinking the same things.

"You don't always have to be the strong and brave one, you know." His voice was soft, pained. He wanted to take away her pain, so badly. He wanted to shoulder all the burdens that wore her down. His heart was breaking in two for her. Because no matter how much he tried, no matter what rule of protocol he broke, no matter what he said... he couldn't save her this time...

She was the single, most courageous, bravest person he'd ever even known.

"I'll be okay," she said, her voice lacking conviction, staring off into the distance. She didn't believe it. He knew that. She knew that he knew, so why the pretense?

"Syd, I-" he broke off. What did you say in this moment? Vaughn didn't know. Maybe there weren't words enough for this...

A car was driving towards them from the side. A helicopter settled in the direction the car was coming from. The CIA had finally arrived, in time to help Vaughn, save Francie... but there wasn't a thing they could do to save Sydney.

She shifted her gaze back on him. "Vaughn, no matter what happens" she said, turning to search his eyes probingly, "just know that I... I love you" she finished quietly.

Oh God.

"I love you too, Syd" he choked out, not even feeling the tears that slipped down his face.

She somewhere found her initiative, her courage, her resolve... Sydney Bristow was a wealth of strength, it seemed; no matter what happened, what curve ball life threw at her, she found some way to bounce back. She started the car, shifted into drive, and made the short drive to where her destiny awaited her. The CIA car turned to follow them. The helicopter had landed and people were emerging.

Life was continuing on.

Vaughn wanted to scream, to shout, to protest. He said nothing. He just blinked and brushed away the dampness on his cheeks with the back of his hand.

She parked next to Sark's entourage, turned of the car with such finality, leaving the keys in the ignition. One last sad and extremely sorrowful look, and a whispered "I'm sorry", she was gone, the door closing softly behind her.

Vaughn slowly climbed out of the car. He had to collect himself, slip into "agent mode". For Syd. He had to take her friend to safety. And try to forget that he'd had to leave her behind. That she'd consciously chosen to do this.

This just couldn't be happening. It was his worst nightmare personified.

She didn't look back at Vaughn. Just kept her eyes glued to Sark. "Where's Francie?" she asked, outwardly calm, cool and collected.

A slight nod from Sark and Francie was pulled from the car. "Such an advantage for us, Ms. Bristow, that you place such high priority on the lives of your friends. Seems to have been a rather expensive price for you to pay in the past 24 hours. Although, I do suppose that Danny could be included in the overall price tag, could he not?"

"Let her go" was all Sydney said. There was a quiet strength to her voice, but also something very deadly.

"Didn't realize you were bringing friends either. That was not part of the agreement. Although, I must say, I don't blame you for bringing 'safe' transportation for your dear friends. Anyway, I ramble. Shall we proceed?" Vaughn could see one eyebrow quirked in question. Vaughn wanted to punch the other man for it... well for other things too. Just being here topped that list.

Sydney glanced briefly back at Vaughn, holding his gaze for only a mere second. Not nearly long enough to say goodbye. The mask had disappeared for that second, and her soul was bared to him; he could read her every thought and emotion. And then the mask was back, and she had turned around and was walking away from him. She managed a quick hug with the hysterically sobbing Francie.

Vaughn noticed this with a cold sense of detachment from the scenario. He figured that her tranquilizer was wearing off. But all he wanted to think, to do, to say... was run after Sydney and kiss her senseless. To protect her. Take her place. Sacrifice everything in his possession for her.

Francie was yanked from Sydney's embrace, and an armed henchman was prodding her towards Vaughn.

At Sark's direction, Sydney held out her hands to be handcuffed in front of her. And then she willingly got in that car, where Vaughn was quite sure more armed men sat waiting.

"Now, Mr. Vaughn" Sark continued once the car door had been shut behind Sydney. Vaughn again thought he'd be sick. "We part our separate ways now. No games. I doubt you would do anything to risk the life of Ms. Bristow, but I still warn you. You're going to take her" he waved his hand dismissively at Francie, who stood behind Vaughn, her hands clutching the jacket he wore. The one Sydney had given him... Sark continued "get in your helicopter, plane, whatever they plane on transporting you back to LA with. And just as a helpful little hint, don't bother returning to the warehouse. I'm quite sure you're well aware enough of our proceedings to know it now appears like any other abandoned warehouse in industrial Taipei. And with that, I bid you adieu." Thankfully, the man had said his piece and was turning to leave.

"And what about SD-6, Mr. Sark? I'm sure you're well aware that Sydney's sudden disappearance will arouse their suspicions. I was led to believe your goal was to destroy SD-6, not eliminate a source whose goal was the same" Vaughn snapped, now in full "agent mode". With Sydney out of sight, he had to concentrate on the situation at hand, do what he could. He was going to be lucky if he wasn't out of a job after this.

"Don't worry, Mr. Vaughn. We've already notified SD-6 that we have taken Ms. Bristow into our custody. They believe she was captured by 'The Man' for questioning purposes relevant to Rambaldi." Sark had turned to face Vaughn again, and an ugly leer was aiming itself at Vaughn. "After all, we do aim to take down the Alliance. But for all intensive purposes, giving SD-6 a story will not save her seeing as there are no immediate plans for releasement."

And with that devastating statement, Sark climbed into his limo and was gone. And Francie was again wailing as she watched the car disappear from sight. Vaughn actually had to wrap his arms around her to hold her in place and prevent her chasing the car.

And then Agents were encircling them, questions were flying, and they were headed towards the helicopter. Vaughn had switched to autopilot. Inside, he was dying.

She was gone.

She was gone.

_She was gone._

She'd told him she loved him, and then she'd walked away, so selflessly. And all he wanted to do was be selfish and tell her to stay if she truly loved him.

But then she'd be the one dying, and Vaughn could never do that. He always had and always would do everything he could to ensure that whatever Sydney wanted was what Sydney got.

Even if it meant hurting himself in the process.

AN: Poor Vaughn huh? I know, I know, I sympathize, really, I do. I'm writing this angst ridden stuff, remember? Okay, we know the drill. The more feedback I get, the faster I post (keep in mind it's a 3 day weekend *wicked grin*)... although I must say I was pretty impressed by the last batch of reviews... I even got myself a beta reader out of the deal! (And I'm quite sure there are numerous jealous souls that Erin will get to read it all first... lol... Which of course will slow down how quickly they get from draft to post, but it's all good)... Okay, I've rambled enough. Review! hehe


	12. Questions & Confessions

Story: Beyond All Limits

Author: Steph (stephanie406@juno.com)

Disclaimer: Don't own Alias, or any characters thus portrayed. It all belongs to JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, ABC, etc.

Rating: PG-13 (for now)

Spoilers/Summary : post "After Thirty Years"; Vaughn's alive, and Sydney's been captured

Distribution: I'd love it if you would, just let me know where it's going! CD definitely has all rights to posting (grin)

Sydney… Oh God, Sydney!

Francie just couldn't think straight. She didn't know who they were, or why they wanted her, but whoever they were they had her best friend.

She didn't care what Syd did for a living. Really, she didn't! Sure, she'd prefer that Syd wasn't emerged so deeply in such an unpleasant world. But at least, all the bruises, the trips, the secrecy and all the puzzle pieces that had never before fit together… suddenly they did. In the context of this world of espionage, it all made sense.

Oh, Sydney… why, why, WHY???

'I'm sorry if I wasn't friend enough. I'm sorry you got mixed up in this. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, so so sorry…'

Francie couldn't stop crying. The helicopter had landed and she was now being escorted towards a plane. Like a heavenly vision, a box of Kleenex appeared in front of her vision. She flashed a watery grateful smile, and through her blurry vision, she absently took notice that it was the same guy that Syd had been with. The guy kept talking in soothing tones to her, although he looked like he could use some comforting himself right about now. His pretty green eyes mirrored every emotion Francie was feeling right back at her.

Francie found the strength within herself to stop crying all of the sudden. "You know Syd" she accused, and followed by blowing her nose viciously into a fistful of Kleenex.

He sighed. They were settling into seats on the plane now. "I do," he admitted. Francie didn't feel the need to inform him that his sigh had been confirmation enough for her. Hell, the look in his eyes and just his general scruffy appearance was enough for her. His hand went to drag through his hair in what she recognized as an agitated emotion.

"How?" she hiccupped. He stood and returned bearing a glass of cool water and a damp washcloth. "Thanks" she mumbled, reaching out and taking both from him and waiting rather impatiently for him to sit down and answer her question.

He sighed again, collapsing wearily into his chair. He leaned forward, elbows propped on his knees, his head held between his hand as his fingers dug absently back into his hair. She was mildly surprised when he agitatedly pulled the hair off his head—a wig. He finally seemed to reach a conclusion, sat up straighter and looked her in the eye. He eyed her for a moment. The wig fell forgotten to the floor as his hand clasped together. "First thing Francie. I'm sure you're well aware that your life is now endangered. I can't tell you what it is that Syd's doing for us. But I can offer both you and Will the opportunity to go into the protection program. All you have to do is let someone know and it will all be arranged."

Oh dear Lord. This did _not sound good. "Okay" she answered weakly. What, if anything, would she tell her parents? She'd have to ask later, but first, she had to deal with whoever this guy was._

He had nodded at her answer, seemingly satisfied. "Okay then, Francie. I suppose introductions are in order, now aren't they?" he smiled weakly at her. "Agent Michael Vaughn, CIA, at your service." He handed her an opened badge billfold thing just like she'd always seen the cops flash on TV.

Francie looked at it absently, closing it and handing it back. "So Syd works for the CIA." A statement, not a question.

"As I said before, I can't give you specifics of what she does. But yes, she works for us, amongst other things. What she does, it's very… dangerous. You're quite the lucky one though. From what Agent Williams" he nodded in the directions of an Oriental looking man "was able to tell me, you friend Will didn't fair so well at the hands of Syd's captors."

Her head was swimming with unpleasant images, so unsettling that she closed her eyes and leaned her head back on her headrest and sighed heavily. It was all so complicated, so evil, so _wrong…_

"Will she be okay?" It was all she really wanted to know.

"We… I… I just don't know Francie. I sincerely hope so; she's very good at taking care of herself, looking out after herself… But I just don't know anymore. It's all gotten so twisted in the past few days." He sighed deeply, exhaling in a loud whoosh of air.

Francie met his eyes, and a revelation dawned on her. Why this guy looked so pained. Why he was so worried. He was emotionally at stake here too. He cared for Syd. And, with a woman's intuition, Francie also knew he loved her.

"You love her, don't you" she said softly. Once again, it wasn't a question. Just a simple statement of perception.

"Yeah. I do" he replied just as quietly.

And then the plane was taxing down the runway and in the air. Nothing more needed to be said, as far as Francie was concerned. An agent appeared with pillows and blankets. An emotionally drained Francie gratefully accepted both offerings. So did Agent Vaughn, she noticed before closing her eyes and snuggling gratefully into the pillow's comfort. His evident pain made her heart ache all the more…

'Poor poor Sydney… No matter what decisions she's made along the way, she surely didn't deserve _this hell' she thought as she drifted her way into a deep, dreamless, and restless sleep._

AN: oh, the angst! It's killing me! (hides behind a protective wall from the flying rotten tomatoes)… okay, okay… actually, there's a few more chapters to post to this story, and then it ends (no screams of protestation… there's a sequel in the works). So, I'm sure you can deduce quite successfully, that with a sequel, there's not much chance for S/V shippness to be occurring anytime soon… sorry! But it will come eventually, I swear! Although, I will hint towards the future a tad bit here, storyline wise, and tell you that V will be dropping out for awhile, and Sark's gonna be a major player… (No more transvestite comments, please! lol)

Oh yes, on another note… for the 2 readers who were so kind to check out the other Alias story I'd started… I don't have any more to that one written yet. ATY happened, and then the inspiration for this one just took off. And, knowing my past history, it's not a wise idea for me to work on more than one story at once, or I'll just never finish… I have like, 5 unfinished stories, not counting "All Night Long"… but I promise, if I get enough interest in it, I'll try to occasionally update that one too J


	13. 'I Love You'

Story: Beyond All Limits

Author: Steph (stephanie406@juno.com)

Disclaimer: Don't own Alias, or any characters thus portrayed. It all belongs to JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, ABC, etc.

Rating: PG-13 (for now)

Spoilers/Summary : post "After Thirty Years"; Vaughn's alive, and Sydney's been captured

Distribution: I'd love it if you would, just let me know where it's going! CD definitely has all rights to posting (grin)

He wasn't sure how many more surprises he could take.

'I love you. I love you. I love you'… it was the endless circular thought pattern his mind was making. The last words she'd said to him.

Jack seriously thought he was going to go insane before long.

He sat in a conference room, surrounded by agents, both CIA and FBI. He spotted a long ago forgotten Will Tippin sitting quietly in a corner, intently watching the bustle of agents, following every movement. Jack had no doubt his reporter's mind was absorbing everything until a time when he could mull it all over in peace.

Maps had been pulled. Everything they knew about Jack's former wife was pulled and pored over. 'So much for Omega-17' he mused. Where would Irina Derevko go? Where would she take Sydney? What did she do with Syd? What was it she wanted Sydney for? She must have a plan. They now knew she never went without one.

Jack wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know any of the answers to their questions. But he needed to know at the same time.

'I love you'

The information Vaughn had quickly detailed over the phone had sent both agencies into frantic activity. The noise level in the room had gone from the gentle hum of voices to a decibel that throbbed with intensity.

Vaughn had gone as quickly as Devlin would let him, begging his need for sleep.

Jack envied Vaughn's ability to go to sleep. As exhausted as Jack himself was, he knew that he'd never be able to sleep if he were to lie down. His mind wouldn't let him sleep. He would be plagued by her, haunted by her voice, whether he was sleeping or awake.

He never thought he'd admit it to himself just how much he loved Sydney. Just how much she'd managed to get him. But if he were to be brutally honest with himself, he'd never stopped loving her. He'd just stopped letting her know he loved her. He'd paid attention to what she did, who her friends were, how late she stayed out, what grades she'd made in school. Jack had believed that letting her, or anyone know just how much he cherished her would eventually be detrimental to her life.

It had turned out to be the opposite—not being an influence on Sydney's life had left her susceptible to the very people he'd been protecting her from.

Oh, he did love her. So much so that it scared him. It had scared him in backing away from her to protect her, and it scared him now that he couldn't protect her.

Jack had learned the hard way that in this business, you couldn't afford to have friends. Or family. One way or another there wound up being a conflict of interest, a compromising of that trust of honesty that normal people took for granted. It was the compromise that emerged when people had to keep secrets from one another, especially loved ones. Emotional attachments became things to avoid, not seek out. Sydney had found this out the hard way as well. And the game was all the more complex for double agents.

Sometimes, fighting for the greater causes of truth and honesty and the good of your country, of mankind… sometimes it took away your rights to any element of a 'normal' life. Sydney, bless her heart, refused to give in so easily.

'I love you'

Jack stood abruptly. "I need to clear my head. I'm taking a walk," he tersely informed Devlin, who just nodded in understanding. Jack left the room.

But he didn't go outside. No. Instead, Jack found a small empty dark room. And he sat down in an empty dark corner.

He was sick and tired of pretending he was empty. He was fed up with the darkness that accompanied his life, and had for many years. Death, despair, darkness… they were all what his life had gradually transcended into over the years. The risks were too high. He no longer had the strength to fight. Like Sydney, he'd entered the double agent world thirsting for revenge and serving the higher good. He'd been seeking vengeance, any kind he could put his hands into, to lessen the pain Laura's betrayal had caused.

His anger had long since dissipated. All that was left was the desire to learn how to feel, how to live, again. For Sydney's sake. Even with that desire included, all that was left of the man Jack Bristow had once been was a lonely old man who'd missed out on so many of the good things life had to offer him.

Still beyond his comprehension was the miracle his daughter had handed him when she'd forgiven him for being who he was, what he'd chosen to do to protect her. She'd understood, finally, and she'd forgiven him. It was more than Jack Bristow expected out of life anymore. But regardless of it all, she loved him.

Jack Bristow couldn't remember the last time he'd been scared for anyone. And he _was_ scared, very scared, for his daughter right now. Better than anyone, he'd come to realize just how dangerous the woman he'd married could be when she chose to be.

'I love you'

The walls had fallen down. And Jack's broken soul was left bare and feeling for the first time in years. Decades. _Broken_. That's what he was.

He heard a pitiful sound, a wailing soul, a cracking voice, rusty sobs. It was him, he thought in amazement. His fingers touched his face, surprised to feel the tears that ran down his cheeks in rivulets.

Suddenly, in a burst of inspiration and revelation and memories long buried, he knew where to find Sydney. And her captors.

Jack stood and quickly headed towards the conference room, stopping momentarily to wash the evidence of his tears away.

He pushed the doors open. Movement ceased when they got a look at the expression on his face. His words sent people scrambling off in all directions.

Jack sought Will out and met his gaze, and as comprehension dawned in the younger man's eyes, his mouth dropped open, a hopeful look overcoming him.

'I love you'

AN: *proud grin* I'm mighty proud of how Jack's character is turning out… always thought he was definitely a fascinating one, and seeing as how I'm a psych major, of course I have to get inside his mind… All right, I've got 2 chapters that I have left already written and ready to be typed and posted. Might be slower going after that, I'm not sure. Haven't written beyond that, although I have a sketch of an idea of what's to come. So maybe 4-5 chapters left in this. And then I start the sequel. I was thinking of calling it "Once Upon A Time", and there will be an appropriate beginning to fit the fairytale start. But I'm more than open to suggestions (same with telling me what POV's you like and I should try to use more often…)

FEEDBACK HERE PEOPLE!!!!!!! Lol

****

~AN~ (secondary author's note addition): to those that didn't understand the 'I love you' bit, that was explained in the very beginning of this chapter. 'I love you' were the last words that Jack heard Sydney say to him before she hung up the phone, and since he's worried about her, her last words keep haunting him (especially considering what those last words were). So no, as one person suggested, it's not Jack saying he loves Will (damn, right? lol)


	14. No Matter What

Story: Beyond All Limits

Author: Steph (stephanie406@juno.com)

Disclaimer: Don't own Alias, or any characters thus portrayed. It all belongs to JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, ABC, etc.

Rating: PG-13 (for now)

Spoilers/Summary : post "After Thirty Years"; Vaughn's alive, and Sydney's been captured

Distribution: I'd love it if you would, just let me know where it's going! CD definitely has all rights (grin)

*AN* gosh I'm sorry it's been so long since an update. And truly I promise it wasn't my fault this time! It's Tuesday, and I sent chapters to be betaed on last Thursday (I still have yet to get anything back). So I'm posting a new chapter so I don't get forgotten and lost in the shuffle of updates… Oh yeah, was out of town this weekend too, otherwise I would have pestered Erin (my Dad and I drove to Virginia to buy a '96 Vette, red, and I'm so happy beyond belief about that)… Of course, expecting lots of grateful feedback that I'm back (hehe) with another Vaughn chapter! Feel the love…

"Agent Vaughn" a voice said, breaking through into Vaughn's sleeping mind. The voice repeated itself, and then the person the voice belonged to began to shake him awake.

Consciousness began to seep in and he mumbled something incoherent.  His brain was leaving behind the fuzzy cobweb quality of sleep and a memory surfaced that reminded him of his surroundings and circumstances. He visibly winced. _Sydney. They had Sydney._

The voice persisted in his mission of waking Vaughn, who finally cautiously opened an eye. One of the agents accompanying them back to the States was crouched in front of Vaughn's seat and holding a cell phone out to him. "Jack Bristow" the agent told him.

Vaughn quickly sat up straight, all traces of sleep suddenly gone. "Yeah?" he asked into the phone, a quick glance in Francie's direction assuring him that she was still asleep.

"When we were married, Laura had numerous subscriptions to various foreign magazines and newspapers. Especially the glossy coffee table type picture magazines. She explained them away saying she'd learned a little of various languages, picking them up in college to fill out her course loads. I never had reason to be suspicious then, and I actually thought it was a cute little professor like quirk for her to read these things in the original language. She'd counted on me dismissing it as a trivial thing.

"Laura was especially fascinated with the African deserts, Egyptian in particular. She was like a sponge, reading everything about ancient Egyptian culture that she could get her hands on. She was endlessly talking about someday taking a vacation there.

"So we started making plans to go when Sydney was old enough to travel—couldn't have been more than 3, maybe 4. But I got called away on business at the last minute and couldn't go. Laura went on without me, taking Sydney with her.

"And when she got back, she just couldn't stop raving about how wonderful it had been. In particular, the pyramids had caught her fancy. But then as it got closer to the time period where she'd obviously been planning her disappearance, suddenly she stopped talking about Egypt. The magazines, the touristy miniatures that littered the house, everything—it just disappeared one day. She obviously wanted me to forget she'd ever even heard of Egypt."

Jack paused for a minute. Vaughn held his breath anxiously. "We've just had confirmation, Agent Vaughn. One of the pyramids she'd particularly loved, one that's older than the more famous ones, set farther out than the rest—there's been a lot of recent traffic headed towards that pyramid, especially in the past day."

Vaughn sighed a sigh of relief, not even pausing to realize that he'd probably heard more come out of Jack Bristow's mouth in less than five minutes than he'd ever heard him say before, total. All Vaughn knew was they'd found Sydney—or at least believed they had. "Thank you for letting me know" he told Jack. Who knows, he might even come to like the man someday. Recent actions proved he still had a heart after all, at least where his daughter was concerned.

Almost as an afterthought, Jack added, "Oh, by the way… the mole has been eliminated."

"Who—" Vaughn got cut off as Jack interjected.

"Haladki."

It made sense really. The man always knew too much. Was much too nosy for his own good. Vaughn couldn't help the self-satisfied smug smile that took over his face as he thanked Jack again, also coming to the realization that Haladki had been his source for the Taipei mission. And Vaughn was positive that he didn't want to know how Jack had 'eliminated' the mole.

Now it was time for his own afterthought. "What am I supposed to do with Francie?" he asked.

"Just bring her to the office with you. Will's still here. There just hasn't been time to make other arrangements."

Vaughn finally was able to detect the exhaustion and weariness in the older man's voice. He understood. And he knew instinctively that Jack hadn't slept yet, was still dangerously burning the candle from both ends. But when things like this happened… well, everything else just didn't matter. The world stopped turning on its axis, and everything came to a standstill.

The phone was now beeping at him, telling him how long he'd been spacing out since Jack had disconnected. He turned the phone off and tossed it towards the nearby couch. It caught the attention of the Agent who'd woken him and handed him the phone in the first place. Sanderson, he thought the guy's name was. Vaughn took the opportunity to ask him how much longer till landing.

"About 3 hours" he replied.

Things were looking up again, at least on the surface. The queasy sick feeling in his stomach was less noticeable since he'd talked to Jack. Maybe things were going to work out after all. He could only hope.

Vaughn sighed and settled back into his chair, trying desperately to get comfortable. He leaned his head back on the headrest and closed his eyes, seeking relaxation.

But until he knew that Sydney was safe once again (she'd never be completely safe as long as the Alliance existed, he knew that), or at least safe from this mission, Vaughn knew he wouldn't be able to relax. Because the woman he loved had told him she loved him and then walked away willingly into captivity to spare the life of a friend.

Images began to flit across his mind. Images of Sydney flashing past his eyes, an endless blur of past, present, and future. Past images of Sydney as he imagined she'd looked like as a toddler. One of those images of a child with their first birthday cake smeared all over her face, as every kid in the world did. Images of Sydney as a child dressed in dance costumes for her ballet recitals, plumy feathers every color of the rainbow sticking out from behind her head. Images of Sydney glowing as she graduated from high school, prepared to take on the world. Present day images of Sydney, dressed in those black 'banker appropriate' suits. Images of her in her running clothes, in jeans and a T-shirt, as she'd looked dressed up that night for dinner with Sloane. Images of her happy, sad, angry, determined… scared. Future images of Sydney as he imagined she'd look on her wedding day, dressed in white and her face glowing happily. Images of Sydney pregnant, her belly swollen from the life that grew within. Images of Sydney laughingly chasing after children, combing hair into pigtails, reading bedtime stories, and kissing skinned knees. Images of her standing in front of the mirror, examining her first gray hair. Images of Sydney, floating before him, taunting him, teasing him, torturing him…

My God, how he loved this woman! Every fiber of his being longed for her, searched for her, reached for her… It took his breath away…

No matter what it took, Vaughn was going to love her and protect her. He'd be her Guardian Angel, always watching after her well being, ready to catch her when she fell, to be there to set her back on her feet. When no one else cared if she lived through a mission, Vaughn would care. If only she would get out of this alive. He vowed to spend his life keeping her safe until that someday when they could finally be together.

REVIEW PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!! Thankies :-)


	15. Flirtations

Story: Beyond All Limits

Author: Steph (stephanie406@juno.com)

Disclaimer: Don't own Alias, or any characters thus portrayed. It all belongs to JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, ABC, etc.

Rating: PG-13 (for now)

Spoilers/Summary : post "After Thirty Years"; Vaughn's alive, and Sydney's been captured

Distribution: I'd love it if you would, just let me know where it's going! CD definitely has all rights to posting (grin)

Sydney finally awoke, fighting past the heavy curtain that had held her in her drug induced slumber. Her mouth was dry. Her muscles were sore and screamed in protestation at still being handcuffed behind her. And now, to top it all off, her feet were tied to the legs of the chair and she'd been tied in around her waist.

She blinked. Man. That stuff they'd given her… powerful stuff it was. She hadn't been surprised in the least to see her old friend the Taiwanese dentist appear with another syringe of that stuff that had knocked her out so well the last time she'd been so unfortunate as to see him. She had noticed that he looked a little worse for the wear… didn't seem as sadistic as he was the last time. And he had a strange looking bandage on his neck and was walking kind of funny. Something to think about at any rate.

Slowly, carefully, she gently shook her head, trying to clear out the cobwebs. Her vision was blurry and she felt fuzzy all over… tingly actually. That couldn't be good could it? Ugh. After some more blinking, Sydney was finally able to look at her surroundings and focus her sight.

At first, she stared uncomprehendingly at what she saw. And as it began to dawn on her as to where she was, she became horrified and creeped out to no end.

The walls were dirt colored and looked to be made of stone or hardened clay. And there were paintings on the walls. _Lots_ of them. Distinctly graphic depictions.

She was in an ancient Egyptian tomb—more commonly known as a pyramid.

Long forgotten and buried memories came flooding back. Bedtime biblical stories centered in Egypt. Invented tales involving Egyptian culture and lore. Dressing as Cleopatra for Halloween one year, complete with a snake bracelet her mother had lent her that Sydney had been so fascinated with that she'd fiddled with it all night. Memories of how her mother's eyes had shone every time she saw or read or talked anything regarding ancient Egyptian times.

Sydney hadn't thought about her mother's obsession in years (and obsession was the only word that could aptly describe her mother's fascination). And now that she could look back on her childhood, she realized that it was the only thing her mother had ever allowed herself to express any sort of interest in other than novels (being that it was pertinent to her cover and all). And apparently, it was the obsession she'd never given up in all these years.

'Please Dad, remember Egypt!' she prayed. It was her only chance.

Sydney heard approaching footsteps. Normally, there'd be a door to open, but this was a pyramid, not a normal building. There were only archways. So Sydney didn't bother to acknowledge the new arrival.

"Ah. Awake at last, are we Sydney? I must admit, it _is_ good to see you again so soon." Sark strolled casually towards her, stopping in front of her. Sydney met his gaze defiantly but didn't say anything. He face held a leering expression as his gaze raked up and down her body.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to make ugly faces at people? It might get stuck like that. Although, I must admit I'd rather enjoy that" she bit back. She couldn't help it. He was eyeing her like she was a piece of meat and he a dog that was near starvation. And she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her squirm under his gaze.

He 'tsk tsked' her. "Sydney my love, what levels you stoop to." He paused for a moment. "I don't believe that your father had the chance to pass along my message to you, did he?"

Sydney didn't take the bait. Rule Número Uno of being a spy: _Never Take the Bait._ Because if they bothered enough to mention something, then it was brought up for a reason. Bragging, intimidation, to threaten… for any number of reasons. They would eventually expound upon their statements in due time. They always did. Thus, Sydney's face remained passive and emotionless.

"Such composure you possess, love. What energy you must expend at my expense to appear as if you are not intrigued." He walked a slow circle around her, lightly tracing the bare skin of her back as his hand moved from shoulder to shoulder, before lifting his hand to caress her cheek with the softest of touches.

Sydney gritted her teeth, and he grinned in satisfaction when he felt the muscles in her cheek tightening in response to him.

"As I was saying" he continued, moving to lean casually against the wall in front of her, totally disregarding the precious ancient art decorating the wall. "I told your father to relay my great appreciation of your performance in Paris."

His gaze was roaming her body blatantly… again. Sydney felt like hurling, but she knew there was nothing in her stomach.

"In fact, you have a particularly lovely…" he trailed off, moving towards her again. He stood behind her, out of sight. But she knew he was there, standing so close he could practically touch her. In fact, her fingers were brushing against the fabric of his pants. Much to her horror, his hand appeared over her shoulder and moved down, his finger slowly making it's way across her chest, tracing the line where skin ended and the tank top began. "A lovely singing voice" he finished.

Sydney wanted to be sick. She wanted to be able to pull her knees to her chest and protectively wrap her arms around herself. She wanted to be warm, because all the sudden, she was shivering with disgust and cold. Goosebumps rose on her arms and legs. Or she assumed they did, because, although she couldn't see them, she felt their presence.

Sark moved away, appearing in her vision once again, his grin of self-satisfaction so large that he reminded her of the Cheshire Cat from Alice and Wonderland.

"What do you want?" she finally broke down and asked. This may not have been a traditional session of torture, but she wanted to speed it along so he'd leave. So, bye bye Rule Número Uno. You didn't quite work so well this time.

And if it was possible, his grin grew wider. "Ah, my love, it's about time you decided to play this game _my_ way. As for what I want? Keep playing my way and you shall find out soon enough."

Rule Número Dos of being a spy: _Don't Let Your Interrogators Discover Any Information That Can Be Used Against You So As to Break Will, Thus Releasing the True Information Sought_.

Well, that could be a problem. She'd broken that one already. Actually, she hadn't had a prayer of a chance to break that one, because her captors already knew so much about her, seeing as how her own mother was head of this operation.

Sark was leaning towards her. With a growing sense of unease, Sydney tried to turn her face away from his in time. But he captured her chin easily and held it in place as he leaned in and kissed her.

"Just as soft as they looked, love. Although" he voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper as he released her chin, "it's such a shame your dear handler won't get to have them."

And then he was gone.

Sydney drew a tremorous breath in, and tears began to well in her eyes. A sob tore through her. That they didn't know she'd already kissed Vaughn (short and well intentioned as it may have been) was little comfort to her. Because if they had their way, she'd never have a chance to give Vaughn any more than that 'thank you I'm so glad you're still alive' kiss.

And to think she'd decided she could never kiss him again until this spy shit life was over with. If she'd had any inkling of what the past day was going to hold for her… if she'd known a single thing about what would happen… Instead all she'd done is give him that one kiss, told him she loved him, and then she'd walked away. If she'd known anything about anything, instead of single chaste kiss in the ducts, she'd have torn his clothes off and made love to him in the ducts if that's what it took. Or attacked him like she'd wished she could when she'd seen him with his back turned to her, wearing nothing more than a pair of boxers and socks.

Oh dear God…

Sydney began fervently praying to every high power she could think of. She'd need all the help she could get if she was to survive what was next, that much she knew…

'I love you' she thought. She cried… too many tears in too short a time period.

~*Author's Note*~ Ah…. Sorry the chapter's been so long in coming. Truly, it's a stall method, I think… I have another chapter and a half written after this, so it may be slow going for a bit… But then again, I shall remind you wonderful people that LOTS of feedback will greatly encourage me to keep on writing (now of course, it would also be wonderful if someone could do something to my dear coworkers so that they'd stop giving me things to do so I'd have TIME to write…) Anyways, feedback as always, and I love you guys *mwah*


	16. In All Honesty

Story: Beyond All Limits

Author: Steph (stephanie406@juno.com)

Disclaimer: Don't own Alias, or any characters thus portrayed. It all belongs to JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, ABC, etc.

Rating: PG-13 (for now)

Spoilers/Summary : post "After Thirty Years"; Vaughn's alive, and Sydney's been captured

Distribution: I'd love it if you would, just let me know where it's going! CD all day any day!

The plane landed. A look out the window confirmed that it was late in LA. Darkness was the blanket thickly lain upon the city. Somber. It was a good word for how he felt. Numb. The pain had numbed him to all reality except for the fact that Sydney was gone.

Darkness had become the incredibly deep void that had swallowed Vaughn whole.

Maybe it was better this way.

Two days ago, he'd loved her, been so devoted that he had followed her nearly blindly to all ends of the earth. Funny thing was, he'd thought he'd followed with his eyes wide open. At least now, he could marginally understand the depth and meaning behind the quirky little phrase 'eyes wide shut'. Because when it came to Sydney Bristow, that's what he was and had always been. Thinking he knew what he was saying, doing, believing—but really, he'd been just a man who'd fallen in love and was blind to anything but the woman he'd do anything for. He'd been aware, and at the same time, unaware and masked from clarity, choice and reason.

Those hours he'd spent on the plane had given him time to think. And he'd come to a few conclusions.

He loved her. And he knew he always would. But he also knew that if he didn't get out of this soon, either there would be hell to pay, or he'd be dead. Besides which, the level to which his emotional involvement had risen to could have many adverse results, only one of which could be Sydney dying. Michael Vaughn was smart enough to realize that he'd have to leave. He wouldn't until she was safely home, unless he was given no choice. He wouldn't be what stood between his country and taking down SD-6, not when he'd worked so hard, so long, to help achieve that very goal.

It very well was a selfish decision on his part, to leave it all behind. To save his heart, his life, while he could. While he still had the option to make that decision for himself. Besides, no matter what he decided now, the result would ultimately be the same. He wouldn't be her handler anymore, but if she called needing him, he'd drop everything and go. Not exactly the healthiest thing in the world.

That he'd become so blind and spineless in love made him sick. He'd help them get her back (if they'd even allow that considering his latest actions). And then he would leave, start anew, and pray that, in time, he could forget the woman who'd pledged her love and walked away. Because she'd always be walking away from him (Duty and responsibility before love. Always do what's expected, even if it's not right and not what you _want_ to do).

And now, here Vaughn was in Devlin's office. Waiting for the hand of fate to come down on him. Devlin sat behind his desk, silently eyeing Vaughn, no doubt choosing the correct punishment carefully.

"You do realize the extent to which your little escapade in Taipei may have jeopardized our work against SD-6, don't you?" he finally questioned.

"I do now, sir" he answered quietly. Almost meekly.

"I'm afraid you've become a liability Michael. I hate having to do this, but people are starting to ask questions, and—"

He decided it was a good time to interrupt. "Sir, I know that I'll have to be removed as Agent Bristow's handler. I'm not asking you to change that. But sir, with all due respect, I _am_ the only one here that knows her, knows how she thinks and deals with things. All I request is that I'm allowed to help plan her rescue. And although, I'd like to stay on the SD-6 case after I know she's been safely returned…." He paused. He had Devlin's full attention, so Vaughn went ahead and blurted it out. "I'd like to request a transfer afterwards, sir."

Devlin's head jerked upwards in surprise. And then he nodded. "That would be best" he agreed, pausing to look at Vaughn contemplatively. "Any particular reason why, Michael? Your knowledge about SD-6 and the Alliance is a valuable asset to us." He leaned back in his chair, his fingers casually slipping into a steeple.

__

You called me a liability just a moment ago, and now I'm an asset? Vaughn thought. _Might as well be honest_…_ drive that final nail into the coffin_. "In all honesty, sir… I'm in love with her. And that's become a danger to myself, to Sydney, to everyone around us."

Devlin nodded. This news apparently did not surprise him. "All right" he agreed. "You were to be removed as her case handler, and I'm in complete agreement that your knowledge will be a necessity to us until Agent Bristow is brought back safely. I'll see what I can do about arranging a transfer. I assume you'd like to stay here in LA."

"Actually, no. I have no preferences other than leaving LA. I'll go to Langley. Or any branch. I'll go for field agent training. To an American Embassy. Wherever. As long as it's not LA." Vaughn shrugged. Devlin stared for a minute. Vaughn could practically see the wheels turning in his mind. But he couldn't decipher what Devlin was thinking, for his face was impassively blank. He finally nodded.

"I'll see what I can do," he said, nodding to signal that Vaughn was free to go. He added, almost as an afterthought, that he needed Vaughn to 'escort' Mr. Tippin and Ms. Calfo to the Protection Program Office. And that once they received their new identities, he'd like Agent Vaughn to 'personally escort' them to their new location.

Lovely. Absolutely fucking lovely. This day just possibly couldn't get any better… Vaughn sighed heavily as he left Devlin's office and began to trudge down the hallway towards the conference room the planning team had taken over. Will and Francie were huddled together in a corner talking in hushed tones.

Great. With his luck, Francie had told Will all about him and they'd think he was their inside source to information about Sydney.

"Come with me" he told them, turning and leaving the room, knowing they'd follow. Sure enough, Francie piped up predictably to ask if he'd learned anything about Sydney that he could tell them.

Vaughn sighed heavily. He stopped outside their destination, and turned to look at Francie and Will, both wearing hopeful expectant looks on their faces. "I haven't had a chance to talk to anyone. All I know is that they believe she's in Egypt and they're planning to try and extract her." He looked them both in the eye. And now for the truth… "You do realize that _all_ our lives are in danger now, don't you?" They nodded in unison. "So you understand why we're telling you, not asking you, to go into the program?" Heads bobbed simultaneously again. "Good" he said, reaching down to turn the doorknob and push the door open and lead the way inside. "I'll be waiting here" he told them as the secretary, who'd obviously been expecting them, led them away.

Vaughn collapsed heavily onto a plush couch in the reception area, his head tilted back and his arms and legs sprawled comfortably. His brow wrinkled in concentration and thought.

No matter how hard he tried, every thought always led to Sydney, one way or another. And for all his good intentions to run from every reminder of Sydney, he knew he'd never be able to run fast enough to escape. Everything and anything fused together with her, until there were no more boundaries, no distinct lines to separate what was and wasn't her. He couldn't look at a flower without remembering meetings at flower shops. Fenced in yards reminded him of their meeting place in the warehouse. Every time he saw a woman with brown hair and wearing a black suit his heart automatically skipped a beat. He was haunted by her presence in everything around him. Yet another reason he had to acknowledge that he was just too emotionally involved with her to stay on as her handler. He had to leave. Get out of town, where there would be no physical reminders of what could never be.

Besides, if he knew anything at all, Vaughn knew his life was in danger. Irina Derevko knew who he was. Probably knew what Sydney meant to him, and what he meant to her. And rather than be a sitting pawn in her twisted game, he was going to run like he'd never run before. Maybe he couldn't outrun Sydney, but he sure as hell could attempt outrunning her mother before she sank her claws into him and manipulated him. He'd already almost died once at her expense. He'd be damned if he let Irina have easy access to him again.

Abruptly, Vaughn stood and left the office, winding his way through the maze of hallways until he found himself in a secluded single stall bathroom. He locked himself in, and moved to stand in front of the mirror. He propped his arms on the sink and leaned forward to stare closer at himself. The longer he stood, the blanker his stare became. He almost didn't recognize his face anymore—almost. Things had changed so much. And at the same time, nothing had changed at all.

He broke the gaze he held with his mirrored self, and, sighing heavily, sank forward until his forehead rested against the mirror.

He'd risked his life for Sydney. He'd die loving her, no matter what he did to run from it. But he knew he couldn't waste his life away, running after her, surviving on hopes that maybe someday they'd be able to live happily ever after.

Happily ever after didn't exist. Or, at least, it hadn't existed for him since he was eight years old and a woman known as Laura Bristow had shattered his perfect world when she'd killed his father. Happily ever after was for fairy tales, and that's where it would stay.

Weary suddenly, Vaughn left the bathroom to return to his place on the couch to await Will and Francie.

~*AN*~ whew. Well I, for one, am very glad FFN is back up again. Especially since I have 2 new chapters! (this was one) Of course, after the next chapter, there's only one more to go (a Jack POV that isn't written yet although I'm guilty of starting the sequel already)… will you be sad to see the end of BAL? I will… and it has the distinction of being the 3 story I've ever completed, and the first of which is a completed Alias story.

Anyways, I digress, do I not? Besides I'm sure you want to hit that review button and tell me just how much you hate me for what Vaughn did in this chapter *ducks the flying rotten fruit* hehe

Steph


	17. Prophecy Fulfillment

Story: Beyond All Limits

Author: Steph (stephanie406@juno.com)

Disclaimer: Don't own Alias, or any characters thus portrayed. It all belongs to JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, ABC, etc.

Rating: PG-13 (for now)

Spoilers/Summary : post "After Thirty Years"; Vaughn's alive, and Sydney's been captured

Distribution: I'd love it if you would, just let me know where it's going! CD all day any day!

"What do you want?" A weary voice aged with the harsh reality of life, ripe with wisdom.

"No retorts this time? No shouted questions? No accusations to make? Sydney, you disappoint me," Irina said tauntingly, moving from the doorway.

Sydney's eyes flicked towards her mother and her gaze held utter contempt. But she remained silent. She'd had many hours to sit and think since Sark had left. She sensed, rather than saw, his presence in the shadows of the hallway.

"Well then. I do hope you are as cooperative for the remainder of your stay" Irina sneered. She was circling Sydney's chair like a lion about to pounce on its prey.

"Really now" was Sydney's response, heavily laced with sarcasm. This game was beginning to get very old. All she wanted to know was what they wanted from her that was so important that she was here.

Irina motioned, and one of her armed goons came in bearing a chair, which he placed in front of Sydney before quickly retreating. So, even her help was afraid of her. Sydney couldn't blame them.

Sydney watched impassively as her mother sat down and looked at her. Finally, she began to speak again. "I do despise having to place you under such restraints, Sydney, but I'm afraid it will be necessary until you have been transported to your final destination."

That got Sydney's attention. Final destination? Where were they sending her? What did this monster plan on doing with her? Sydney sat up straight and finally looked her mother in the eye and held her gaze.

Irina continued. "I'm quite sure you're wondering why we went through all this trouble" she motioned to indicate the room "to secure you within our operation."

Sydney nodded.

"It's all part of a plan that's bigger than you, bigger than myself, Sydney. Now. I know you're well aware of Page 47 to Rambaldi's journal, what has become known as 'The Prophecy'. Truly, I am sorry that you were mistaken for me in regards to the investigation that took place, yet even that was foretold in the Prophecy. But what your CIA does not know is that Page 47 was only a small portion of this Prophecy.

"Rambaldi was a very ingenious man. He realized the power his visions held, and therefore spread the Prophecy through many of his works. Sketches, paintings, hidden in various objects. I was intrigued with his methods. After discovering a few pieces of the Prophecy, I came to realize that some things had already come true, that I had already fulfilled them. Since then, I have spent my years since I left you and your father collecting the Prophecy and seeing to it that it be brought about as Rambaldi foresaw it.

"The battery and other of Rambaldi's inventions—they are only a distraction." Irina's hand waved dismissively. "True, placed together, they form something, serve some purpose. It amuses me to bring his inventions to life. But finally, after years of searching, planning and manipulation, the Prophecy is ready to be fulfilled."

Sydney was seized by a sudden numbness as the feeling of impending dread settled deep into her soul. She knew with certainty that she wasn't going to like what was coming next.

"Wouldn't you like to know what the Prophecy really has to say Sydney?" Irina's face held a lecherously smug smile.

"Actually, no, not really. I'd much rather you let me go home."

"I'm afraid that's not a possibility Sydney. Not yet, anyway." Her mother's eyes narrowed. She raised her voice a little and called towards the doorway "If you would join us now, Mr. Sark." He walked in, the self-confident smug smile still in place on his face. He came to a stop next to Irina.

"Mr. Sark will accompany you to one of my private homes, a secluded and isolated island that is miles away from any human beings. He too was destined to bring this Prophecy into fulfillment, and you shall do this together."

Sydney eyed him suspiciously before returning her gaze to her mother. "And what exactly is it that you think we'll be doing on this island of yours that will fulfill whatever this Prophecy says?"

"'She who lives for justice and tries to right the actions done by the woman who bore her, will in turn bear the child who will be the greatest force known to all humanity.' _That my dear Sydney, is what you are to fulfill. You and Mr. Sark are allotted one year to bring forth the child and deliver it to me."_

Sydney's voice was low, and her eyes dangerously dark as she spoke. "You have to be out of your fucking _mind, woman! This is a 500-year-old so-called 'prophecy', in which no names are mentioned and it very well could be, and probably is, the invention of a delusional old man. And for __that" she spat "you're going to force your __own child to have relations with her enemy and bear you a child? Just what about this even seems remotely realistic about this?"_

"I assure you, I am perfectly sane, thank you" her mother answered primly (if that were even possible for that woman). "And you will do as you're told, and behave while you're at it, simply because you have no other choice. Especially if you want you loved ones to still be alive when you're released within a year's time."

Sydney slumped in defeat. She'd do whatever it was her mother wanted from her, even if it meant bearing Sark's child, as long as it kept Irina from hurting her father, Will and Francie, and Vaughn. She'd proven well that she knew where to hit where it would hurt Sydney the most.

"What exactly will be stopping me from killing him and preventing your Prophecy from ever happening?" It was a valid question, after all.

"Sydney" she said rather impatiently, quickly standing. "If you ever want to see your Michael Vaughn of the green eyes and longing looks ever again, you'll do exactly as I tell you to. After all, I killed his father, it would be nothing at all for me to kill the son as well."

How did she know what color his eyes were? What looks he sent her way? Sydney closed her eyes, tears burning and threatening to spill down. She inhaled deeply, blinked her tears away, and looked up, her chin turned up defiantly. "Fine. I'll go with him, but don't expect me to give in as easily."

"That doesn't matter to me Sydney, whether you do this the hard or easy way. I alone know the day the child will be born, the sex, the birthmarks. It _will happen. Nothing you do will change that. But if you do cause Mr. Sark too much trouble, you will be placed under sedatives that will pose no difficulty to you or the child."_

A lone tear escaped down Sydney's cheek. Her mother wasn't playing some cruel joke on her; she really expected her to do this. And she would assuredly take whatever measures necessary to ensure that she got her way.

Sydney caught a fleeting glimpse of her mother's reaction to that lone tear: infinite sadness and sorrow. And maybe even… love? It was a look Sydney recognized from her childhood. But it was gone long before Sydney could be sure she'd even seen it in the first place.

"I'm sorry it had to happen this way Sydney" she said, before quickly turning and leaving, the heels on her shoes clicking, echoing back softer as she got farther away.

When Sydney opened her eyes again, she wasn't surprised to find Sark still standing before her. The lecherous look was gone, and so was the smug smile. He pulled something from his pocket: another syringe. "A sedative" he explained. _So you won't give us any more trouble was the implied message. He quickly injected it, and then set about freeing Sydney from the chair, and even kindly rehandcuffing her hands in front of her. And then he pulled her to her feet and escorted her out of the room, out of the pyramid, and towards a waiting helicopter. No time was wasted._

After all, didn't her predetermined destiny await?

AN: well folks, one chapter left…. Review as always *grin* I'm still working on the last chapter, and it goes without saying that the more reviews I get the faster I write (I know that's a terribly cliché incentive to offer, but it's actually true in this instance)… FEEDBACK!!! hehe


	18. Far From Over

Story: Beyond All Limits

Author: Steph (stephanie406@juno.com)

Disclaimer: Don't own Alias, or any characters thus portrayed. It all belongs to JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, ABC, etc.

Rating: PG-13 (for now)

Spoilers/Summary : post "After Thirty Years"; Vaughn's alive, and Sydney's been captured

Distribution: I'd love it if you would, just let me know where it's going! CD all day any day!

AN: Well, well well… The final chapter has arrived! Thanks much to my wonderful betas (Becky, Airebella, and Pax)… Let me know what you think, and keep the harassment up for the sequel! (Also keep an eye out for me to start posting that soon. It's called "Once Upon A Time"). Let's get started shall we? *grin*

Steph

He couldn't remember how many days it had now been since he'd last gotten sleep. It didn't seem to matter anymore. What mattered was that he loved his daughter, and she loved him despite it all, and that he was going to do his absolute best to get her back safe and alive. Heaven help those that came between a determined Jack Bristow and his mission, especially if it was of the personal nature. And Sydney definitely fell into that category.

Seeing as how the flight to Egypt was going to be roughly eighteen hours at best, more than twenty at worst, Jack took advantage of the time and locked himself into the bedroom that came standard on CIA issue business jets. He'd collapsed on the bed before the plane had even left the ground, and by the time it had leveled off, Jack was drifting far from the world of reality and pain, in a state that wasn't quite sleep nor awareness.

And so, he could not forget where he was, where he was going, and for whom he was going. He tossed and turned as he drifted dreams in his restless state of sleep.

Old memories, long been forgotten or buried, rose from the graveyard to haunt him. He remembered Laura as he'd met her, young and foolish, with sparkling brown eyes and shining long hair. Well, not so young, she was just finishing school at the time, eager to begin teaching ripe, willing minds. He remembered thinking of her as open and trusting, almost childlike in a sense. Her petite stature had lent to the image, and so on their wedding day she'd looked almost like a kid in an elaborate game of dress-up. His child bride. He'd been so smitten with her, could remember how his heart had been swollen with love and pride that he'd been her chosen one. Four years later, when she sat in the hospital bed holding Sydney for the first time, her hands skimming over the tiny body to count fingers and toes and determine who's chin and nose the baby had, Jack had gained the impression that both of the tiny lives he'd been entrusted with were far too precious a gift for a man like himself. Laura'd held an enthusiasm for life that he'd prayed that his daughter would inherit.

But Laura was no more. Laura had been nothing but an act put on by the Russians. She was an invention, a figment of the imagination almost. And to try and remember her was like standing outside on a hot, humid day, looking up the road, imagining that the shadows of the trees that crossed the road shimmered like water in the desert. Not real—a mirage, nothing more.

Sydney, though, was very real. True, she too lived a life that was nearly a complete lie most of the time. He felt she was paying too high a price for circumstances that were beyond her control, that had begun before her birth. This trip was a definitive reminder of that. Enough so that Jack woke from his restless sleep to find himself in a cold sweat, his mind still plagued with images of Laura, and Sydney, and the family they had never really had the chance to become. Would never be.

Jack shook his head angrily, trying to erase the images from where they lay burned on his retinas, unrelenting in their irony. Angry with himself for, twenty years later, still holding onto a dream that would never reality. That he couldn't allow himself to bring into being. For knowing what had happened, what was real versus what wasn't, and for still wishing he could go back in time to the point in his life where happiness and love had reigned. A time when he'd been young and naive, an innocent kid who'd grown up on a farm in the country, with dreams that had been unspoiled by the negativity of reality. Even knowing what that life, his decisions, had cost him, cost Sydney, cost his country; yet still some small part of him wanted to go back to who he'd been, back before it had all become so complicated.

And so maybe, that was why he wasn't surprised when his CIA issue cell rang a few hours later. He'd been sprawled in a La-Z-Boy, still locked in the plane's bedroom, his suit jacket tossed somewhere out of sight, his tie loosened and the top buttons on his shirt undone. Jack had discovered the mini bar on the way to the suite's bathroom, and was nursing his second rather large glass of whiskey. "Jack Bristow" he said, answering the phone before it could reach its third annoyingly insistent ring. He listened quietly, controlled, as an accented voice he recognized as belonging to Alexander Khasinau gave him orders to follow once the plane he was known to be on landed and disembarked.

He was told to drive out to the pyramid. Alone. And unarmed. Jack wasn't surprised in the least to discover that _her_ operation had anticipated CIA actions—had kept tabs on their (his) movements.

But nevertheless, surprised or not, when Jack heard the click that indicated the call had been ended, he angrily punched the 'End' button and heaved the phone across the room, satisfied at the hearty thump it made as it contacted the wall before falling gently into the plush carpeting.

He felt the control starting to slip, knew it was beyond his control, hated that he couldn't grab hold of that elusive thread that was unraveling his sanity, all that he knew to be well and true.

Thankfully, no one had investigated the cause of the noise, and Jack had gone back to his whiskey to seek comfort, understanding and solace.

He'd retrieved the phone only after the plane had landed (Cairo, Egypt) in a dusty excuse for a nearly abandoned airport. Sure enough, he found his transportation just where Khasinau had said it would be, with the keys hidden under the driver's seat. It was the desert appropriate mode of transportation—a camouflage painted Hummer. To say that the fellow agents he'd left behind were disgruntled and upset that their carefully laid plans had been shot to pieces (by a woman, and a Russian, nonetheless) was putting it mildly. Jack was more than sure that Devlin had heard about it many times over, and in fact his phone had rung, but Jack had turned if off rather than answer it. What would the point be? A GPS tracking system was mounted to the dash and had been programmed with his location and kept him driving along the hot, humid and dusty road towards his final destination. One arm dangled out of the open window as the other sat on the top of the steering wheel. Gusts of dry air sifted through his hair, carelessly disheveling and upsetting the usual orderliness of it.

It had been a long time coming, this meeting of two people who'd not laid eyes on each other in decades. More than just people—former lovers (for their bodies had known no names together, no personalities, no hidden agendas). And Jack's mind couldn't help but to wander, to think of what she would look like, to wonder if time had been kind or harsh to her. And if he were to touch her, would his hands remember the curves and planes of her body?

He knew that it was dangerous to be thinking this way, because after all that had happened, he should hate her with a fervor that would rival the passionate love he'd once known for Laura (the ever present ghost, the alter ego). His mind would forever be fighting itself, wanting to believe that Laura hadn't been a total lie and that maybe Irina wasn't as cold-hearted as he'd been led to believe (that he knew).

But he wanted that tug of war between feelings and rationale, between mind and heart to finally be over. So he was here, as she'd requested, abandoning his vehicle and warily letting the two armed men that had approached frisk him. Once they were satisfied that he was clean (he even left his cell phone sitting on the passenger seat), they turned and walked into the pyramid, knowing he'd follow them.

One step inside the ancient structure and his senses were assaulted with the musty rank smell of a building that had been long shut up and only recently reopened to sunlight and circulating air. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the low lighting after having been in the bright desert sunlight, then darting around quickly as he absorbed the room. He continued following the men that now stood at the end of a hallway waiting for him impatiently. And even though he felt surprisingly uneasy and even nervous, Jack walked slowly, unconsciously turning in the middle of rooms as he stared up at the vaulted ceilings and noted where the gold decorations had once adorned every surface imaginable. Paintings recording important life events graced the walls, portraying births and deaths, marriages and wars, triumphs and losses alike. It was almost too easy to picture the rooms as they had once been in all their glory.

"It's about time you finally got to share my love of ancient Egyptian history, Jack," a voice from a corner of the room said. He'd been absorbing his surroundings, but not so much so that he had failed to notice that his guards had left without him. Not so occupied he hadn't felt her electric presence as he'd entered the room. Not so much that her low throaty voice didn't come as a surprise. He turned, slowly, towards the direction the voice had floated from, a voice he'd valiantly tried for years, unsuccessfully, to banish from his mind.

He'd opened his mouth to say something, but she emerged from the shadows and he forgot whatever he might have had the presence of mind to say. She still moved quietly and purposefully, every movement graceful and elegant. She'd aged, as had he, but she seemed to be still as beautiful as the day he'd first met her. Age had not diminished the beauty she'd passed onto their child.

"Hello, Jack" she said softly, seating herself. For the first time, he noted the chairs that sat opposite one another next to him, and a crate that sat in between with a softly glowing lamp squarely in the middle. He sat down in the empty chair, nodding to her in acknowledgement.

He finally found his voice and asked "Where's Sydney?" A flash of disappointment in her eyes did not escape his notice. So she still felt something as well, he mused, knowing the only explanation for the fleeting look was in response to his asking after their daughter and nothing more personal or friendly. He wanted to congratulate himself on hurting her in some small way after all the pain she'd put him though.

"She's not here." Her chin lifted as she said it, her voice carefully modulated to reveal nothing. He knew the trick well, used it often. Could finally tell when she employed the tactic.

"But that doesn't answer the question, Irina," he told her in a tight voice.

She smiled softly. "In an odd way, Jack, it's good to hear you finally say my real name…"

He chose not to respond other than to send her a withering look. She sighed heavily. "I've sent her away on a… mission, if you will."

Jack quirked an eyebrow at her, but his look demanded an explanation.

"The 'Prophecy', Jack. Ultimately, this is what it's all about. Sydney plays a rather large role in the fulfillment of the Prophecy. I'm afraid that her involvement will require the better part of the next year." She fell silent, then resumed. "I'm sorry, Jack, but you won't be rescuing her today. Or any time this year. Your CIA can follow me from city to city, nosing along the faintly warm trail I leave behind. It's been amusing to play with all your friends, but I'm afraid it will do you no good in terms of locating Sydney. Precious few know where she's been taken to."

"Why are you doing this to her? To me? To the people that care about her? If you're just trying to prove something, you've well done that" he told her coldly. Getting angry because he was slipping, losing control, letting his emotions rise and take over.

She sighed. "Jack—" she began.

"Save it," he spat, "I don't want to hear your excuses and your lies. Because that's about all you've ever let out of your mouth. At least to me. And look where that got us all. Look at what you've done to our daughter, who was nothing more than an innocent bystander until you intervened. Again. Stop playing God, Irina."

She eyed him silently, her shoulders slowly sinking into a slump. "I'm sorry, Jack," she whispered, her eyes staring at a spot on the floor. She rose suddenly and walked away. She looked back from the doorway, and he could see the tears glistening in her eyes. "Truly, I'm sorry," she repeated, "but this is just the way it has to be."

And then she was gone, the guards were back and he was 'escorted' outside, where he stood blinking in the sunlight blindly after the door thumped shut behind him.

As Jack shuffled tiredly towards the Hummer, he felt his age. And he wanted to scream and shout and berate the God he no longer believed in would allow something like this to happen. He wanted to turn around and force his way back inside, to beat Sydney's location out of someone, anyone. But for maybe the first time in his life, he felt completely helpless and totally aware of how little he could do. And he'd never wanted so much to just let it all go, to stop giving a damn, to put his head down on the steering wheel and cry. But he wouldn't allow himself that luxury more than once in a span of a few days, even if this time it was for all he'd lost instead of all he stood to lose. As he started the vehicle and gunned the engine, he knew what he would have to do. That maybe, despite it all, or maybe to spite it all, he was going to do what she'd told him not to. He was going to track her down, as hungrily and voraciously as a lion that smelled blood.

Jack smiled in grim satisfaction. No, this wasn't over yet. He wouldn't let it be. Pity the person that stood between him and his daughter now. 

Addendum Author's Note: Okay, apparently in your great haste to read the chapter you skipped over the Author's Note at the top. So this is your second notice that, yes, this is the last chapter, and YES there IS a sequel. LOL. You people never cease to amuse me… *grin*


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